


TF2 Short Drabbles.

by ImberBimber



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: M/M, Multi, Please enjoy!, Request wanted, Short Fics
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-02
Updated: 2016-12-24
Packaged: 2018-08-12 14:58:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply, Underage
Chapters: 29
Words: 31,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7938907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ImberBimber/pseuds/ImberBimber
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just some short drabbles I'll write in between chapter updates. Feel free to leave any request you have in the comments, this is for your enjoyment!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. BushMedicine: I ain’t Inclined...

It wasn’t like he had planned for this to happen, hell, he never had any intention of getting involved. But then again, when Spy had asked him to play Saxophone while he taught Scout how to dance… Hell, like he’d pass up a chance to see something as kooky as that. Even now, with the cold instrument clutched in his hands and a slow melody drifting through the air, he tried to hold back the smile that was tugging at his mouth. 

“Non, stop sticking your foot out like that! You are trying to woo Miss Pauling, not kill her!” Spy scolded, his grip on the boy tightening. 

“Yeah but I ain’t dancin’ with Miss Paulin’ now, am I?” Came the short retort, and Sniper watched the pair tumble over each other again, Scout barely managing to keep them upright. Spy huffed, pushing Scout away and taking a couple of steps back. He grumbled something under his breath and pulled out his disguise kit, Scout glared at him, crossing his arms and tapping his foot impatiently. 

“C’mon man! Do you have to constantly smoke like this? You’re wasting valuable time!” 

“I’m wasting time? If you would listen to me and stop trying to lead-” 

“How the hell will I learn how to lead if you never let me do it?”

Sniper tuned the bickering pair out, opting to look over his Sax instead. The thing was a bit dented, years of mistreatment and wear clearly showing. He tried rubbing it off, wiping his gloved hand over the dull surface. He had bought this old thing a couple of years back, and she had been a faithful ol’ gal ever since. He knew most Saxophones would have broken due to the rough treatment he had the undergo, so he was really proud of this one for lasting so long. 

“How long have you known how to play?” 

Sniper jumped, fumbling with his instrument for a second before looking up. Medic stood beside him, observing the Sniper quietly. How long had he been there? 

“Oh, um…” He straightened up, rubbing the back of his head as he mentally added up the years. 

“Maybe seventeen? A bit longer, I’m not really sure…”

Medic smiled, nodding. Sniper noted how it seemed kind of genuine, not the kind that made you question his sanity and want to back away.   
Those ‘smiles’ were the worst. 

“That is very impressive”

“Thanks Doc” 

Medic nodded, glancing over at the other two men, his cold, calculating gaze observing every movement. Sniper shifted uncomfortably, looking away. Something about how the Doc always looked like he was watching, always observing, made him feel uneasy. It felt like he was an experiment, and Doc was constantly watching to see if a third arm was going to sprout out of his forehead. Then again, with the Doc’s crazy treatments, he may want to start checking as well. 

Medic chuckling brought him out of his daze, and Sniper looked over at him, confused. 

“What is it Nurse?”

The Medic’s eyes were crinkled up, his smile bright and beaming. Gesturing over at the Spy’s vain attempt to catch himself as the duo fell to the floor, he shook his head sadly. 

“That boy is a terrible dancer.”

Sniper shrugged, frowning. Although watching Spy fall had been mildly amusing, he wouldn’t go that far and say it was completely Scout’s fault. 

“At least they’re trying” Sniper muttered. 

Medic frowned, casting Sniper a confused glance. 

“Can you dance, Herr Sniper?”

Sniper chewed on his lip thoughtfully, wishing he had a lolly to preoccupy his mouth. He hated chewing on his lip, it always left it rubbed raw. 

“Yeah, I guess...” Sniper shrugged. He hadn’t really been good at it, and it wasn’t something he’d go around bragging about. The Medic smiled. 

Taking a step back, Medic did a small bow sort of maneuver, offering the Sniper his gloved hand. 

“Then, may we dance?”

Sniper scoffed, rolling his eyes. 

“You ain’t just trying to show off now, are ya Doc?”

Medic straightened up, placing a hand over his heart in mock distress. 

 

“Me? Never!”

 

Sniper pinched the bridge of his nose, fighting back the small smile tugging at his lips. 

“Fine, I have nothing better to do.”

Medic giggled, clapping his hands together and grabbing Sniper’s hand. The man was surprisingly strong, and he managed to pull Sniper onto the small stage Spy had made. Sniper flailed, trying to slow the excited man down. 

“Doc! My sax!” The poor thing was haphazardly clutched in one hand, and Sniper didn’t think it could go through any more beatings, despite its great reputation. Spy, who had been in the middle of yelling at Scout about being a barbarian, stumbled back a couple of steps when Medic pushed past him. 

“Sniper? Medic? What are you-”

“Take this” Sniper stuttered, forcing it into Spy’s hands as he slid by. Spy fumbled with it for a second, glaring up at the two. “We do not have enough time for-”

“Nonsense!” Medic cooed, stopping and turning to face the Sniper. “There is always time to dance!” 

Spy sighed, walking over to place the instrument down, “Bien, fine” he huffed. 

“What about me?” Scout whined, crossing his arms. “I need to learn how ta dance too Doc!”

“Then watch, and maybe you’ll learn something” Medic sighed, taking Snipers other hand in his own. Sniper frowned, the interactions going on making his mind spin. Wait, what were they dancing? He only knew a couple of dance moves and- Oh god, please let it be something he knew!

“U-Uh Nurse…” Sniper muttered, chewing his lip. Damnit. 

“Ja, Was ist es Liebe?”

“What are we going to- What will we be… What are we…” Sniper fumbled over himself, trying to form a coherent sentence. God, as if he didn’t feel like a bloody idiot before hand. Medics chuckle caught him off guard though, and he looked down at the other man, face flushed. 

“You can lead, if it makes you feel any better”

Sniper nodded, sighing in relief. “Thanks Nurse.”

Taking his hand out of Medic’s grasp, he gently placed it on his hip instead, the warmth radiating from under the lab coat oddly comforting. Readjusting his grip, he felt his face heat up as medic placed his hand on Sniper’s shoulder. It was almost like a sign of trust, how ready Medic was to let him lead. He tried to set a tempo in his head, humming awkwardly to himself as he took his first step. Medic must have recognized the tune, because he stepped back as well, grinning as if he had won a prize. Sniper continued to hum, each intricate step as delicate as the last. He didn’t remember why he had taken lessons, maybe his mother had pushed him to, maybe he had actually wanted to learn at some point. Either way, it didn’t matter now, all that mattered was staying in tempo with his lively partner, constantly keeping up with the sudden change in atmosphere as the tango progressed. 

Medic was a force to be reckoned with, and Sniper found himself thoroughly enjoying himself as they moved across the floor. You could tell a lot about a man by how he danced, and Sniper found himself reading Medic like a book. It was like he knew exactly when Medic would move, their eyes locked on each other as the tempo built up speed. His feisty attitude and determination pushed him to make unexpected moves, and Sniper watched, fascinated as the man added bits and parts to the original tango that he had never seen before. His stance screamed that he was open and easy to read, but his expression whispered of darker undertones. Sniper swallowed nervously, trying not to falter. 

Their legs twirled around each other, and Sniper quickly spun Medic around, who chuckled in response. Thier bodies pressed flush against each other, and Medic laid his head back on Sniper’s shoulder, before he was quickly spun back into the mix. There was something oddly intimate about dancing, and as they speed towards the song’s climax, Sniper could see just how much this meant to the other man. Medic’s grin and flushed face shone under the lights, and Sniper couldn’t tear his eyes away, trusting his body to remember where he should be and when, reading Medic’s face and trying to decipher when the other would make yet another unexpected move. 

Their feet moved in perfect harmony, and Sniper took his cue, dipping the Medic. Medic’s hands wrapped around his neck, and they stood there, panting like dogs and smiling like idiots as the dance came to a sweet and sudden end. 

“Holy shit” Scout gasped. 

Sniper looked up, locking eyes with Spy. ‘He actually looks kind of impressed’ Sniper noted, smiling. The hands around his neck shifted, and Sniper looked down, noting the Medic’s uncomfortable gaze. 

“Shit, sorry Nurse!” Sniper straightened up, helping the Doc up as well. 

Medic waved it off, face still flushed from the routine they had completed. “Nein, it is fine. I did not know you knew how to tango, Herr Sniper” he chuckled. 

Sniper shrugged, rubbing the back of his head nervously and letting his other arm drop. “Was just an old hobby, I guess” he admitted. 

 

Scout grabbed onto Sniper’s arm, tugging it gently. “Teach me how to dance like that man! I gotta know how to woo Miss Paulin’ with those mad skills!” 

Sniper gently pried the boy off his arm, frowning down at him, “later Scout.” Looking up again, he noted the Medic had disappeared. He turned around, confused. 

“Do not fret, Bushman, he does that all the time.” Spy had been leaning against the wall, standing protectively next to the Saxophone.

Sniper frowned, “What?” 

“He is an avid dancer, but he never stays around to bask in the… Afterglow” Spy chuckled, his little innuendo going right over the Scout’s head. 

 

Sniper shook his head, walking over and picking up his instrument. “Thanks for watching her Spook” he muttered, and he barely acknowledged the Spy’s nod. As he left the room, he clutched the Sax close to his chest. When was the last time he’d danced like that? Not in a while… And he wouldn’t mind doing it again.


	2. SniperSpy: Light Drunk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Request: Sniper is a lightweight drunk, and Spy just has bad timing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning, some non-con stuff.

Useless. 

Bloody Useless.

That’s all he was, and that’s all he’d ever be. His face pressed softly against the side of the scope, and he tried to calm down, his hands trembling under the weight. Why was this so difficult all of a sudden? Shoot the damn blokes!

His finger twitched, and he flinched as a RED flew in front of his crosshairs. 

Pulling the trigger, the BLU Sniper watched the enemy Soldier collapse to the floor in a bloody, messy heap. Holding his breath, Sniper let it out in disappointment when the man moved. 

“Another body shot…” he whispered, collapsing back into his seat. He placed his hand on his forehead, gun resting casually in his lap. 

“Another bloody body shot…” 

He was better than this, he knew he was. Years of training in the outback didn’t result in such shitty shots. He was suppose to be clean, he was suppose to be a professional. 

He wasn’t suppose to get body shots. 

Not only was it inhumane, it reflected poorly on his report. He was tired of looking like a piss poor shot, and he knew the other Sniper was making fun of him for being so bad. 

Sighing, he propped his beloved gun on the wall beside him, trailing his hand along the polished wooden side. She was a good gun, and she rarely had any problems. Even now, Sniper knew her crosshairs and sights were perfectly aligned, and his aim wasn’t off because of her doing. 

“Sorry Maria, I need a break” he whispered, leaning back against the wall and pinching the bridge of his nose. His fingers twitched again, and he glanced at the doorway, almost wishing the RED Spy would come and give him a reason to get up. 

Nothing. 

Closing his eyes again, he let his head rest against the wall behind him as he exhaled loudly. 

Unconsciously, he reached into his pocket, grabbing the large metal flask he had stored in there. It wasn’t like he normally drank, and he had only started recently but… Something about losing himself in the toxic swirl of scrumpy gave him that needed release. He clumsily unscrewed the bottle, the metal grinding against itself as it came loose. 

Tilting his head back, Sniper grudgingly swallowed the bitter liquid, letting the scorching drink burn his throat on the way down. 

He knew drinking on the job wasn’t his thing, but one time wouldn’t hurt. 

As the battle progressed, Sniper found himself making frequent trips to the resupply room, grabbing more and more bottles of scrumpy with every trip. His little perch was quickly filling up with empty glass bottles, and as he came back with yet another load, he stumbled over some of the containers. 

“Shi-” 

Sniper oofed, the bottles rolling out of his grasp and his body hitting the wooden floor painfully. He swore under his breath, swaying as he tried to regain his balance. Resting on his knees, he chuckled. 

“Sniper, what are you doing?” 

Sniper flinched, looking over his shoulder and glaring at the other man. The BLU Spy was leaning casually against the doorframe, his arms crossed protectively and a look of disdain on his face. Sniper groaned, laying back down and rolling onto his back. Standing up was too much work, he’d do it later. 

“I just wanted to have a drink” He slurred, motioning half heartedly at the empty bottles. Spy sighed, running a hand along of the edge of his mask. 

“Professionals don’t drink on the job…” 

Sniper scoffed, sitting up. “Demo does it! And I don’t see why I shouldn’t get to as well! I ain’t a bloody professional, all I can do is manage piss poor body shots…”

The Spy rolled his shoulders, walking over to the drunk Sniper and sitting down next to him. He crossed his legs, still trying to appear semi-put together. 

“Sniper, you of all people should know that we can’t be perfect. We all mess up…” Spy scolded, gently removing the bottle Sniper had picked up from his hand. Sniper frowned, tuning the man out as he began to give Sniper a whole speech about self-confidence and control. Damn, it was like the guy knew this would happen eventually. 

Sniper watched the man with mild disinterest, taking in his features as he gestured with his hands at the bottles around the duo. His jaw was well defined, his grey eyes shining brightly under the harsh sun’s illumination, and his slender frame moved with each word, shifting gently in a subtle way. The flick of a wrist, the slight shuffle to adjust how he sat, the slow eventual relaxation of his body as he let himself go. Sniper found himself entranced, his eyes locked on the other man. He never really had a chance to talk to Spy like this before, and he found himself silently scolding himself for being so blind. 

As the Spy continued his speech, Sniper slowly, albeit clumsily, scooched closer to the talkative man. He just… He just wanted to be closer to the guy. He told himself it was because he couldn’t hear what he was saying, and being closer would help him understand the jumbled words. Spy slowed to a stop, casting the Sniper an uneasy glance. 

“Sniper?” 

Sniper blinked, focusing on the Spy’s eyes. 

“What?” He slurred.

“Are you even listening to me?” 

Sniper grinned, leaning closer to him. 

“Couldn’t take my eyes off ya” 

Spy shifted, uncomfortable. Sniper frowned, thrown off by Spy’s lack of a response. Reaching forward, he tried to gently stroke the side of Spy’s cheek, but the other man flinched back. 

“Sniper, no” he hissed, eyes burning. 

Spy started to stand up, obviously done with trying to cheer up the Sniper. If the man was too drunk to use reason, then he didn’t want anything to do with him. Sniper growled, grabbing the retreating man’s wrist. 

“What the bloody hell Spy, where do you think you’re going?” 

Spy tried to tug his wrist out of Sniper’s grasp, but Sniper just tightened it in response. Standing up, Sniper swayed unsteadily, causing the Spy to stumble a bit as well. He didn’t want the man to leave just yet, and he wasn’t planning on letting him. Spy placed a hand on Sniper’s shoulder, steadying the duo. 

“Sniper, please, let me get back to work.”

Sniper shook his head ‘no,’ glaring at the smaller man. 

“No, I’m not letting you leave just yet.”

Spy sighed, placing his hand on top of Snipers, trying to ease his tight grip. 

“What do you need?”

Sniper grinned, advancing toward the Spy, who backed up in turn. Distress flickered over Spy’s face for a brief second, but it was quickly replaced by his usual, calm expression. Placing a gloved hand on Sniper’s chest, Spy tried to slow the other enough to make him stop. 

“Sniper-” 

Sniper pressed the other against the wooden wall, glass bottles clinking as he kicked them out of their way. The smaller man was pressed flush against his front, and Sniper reached over with his free hand, making another attempt to stroke his face. 

“God you’re so bloody handsome” Sniper purred.

Spy stiffened under his touch, twisting his wrist around Sniper’s grasp. Spy’s other hand still rested on Sniper’s chest, and Spy locked his gaze on his fingers, refusing to meet the taller man’s gaze. 

“Bloody Spook” 

Damn Spy, didn’t he know it was rude to ignore someone when they were talking to you? Cupping the Spy’s chin, he jerked it up, forcing the other to meet his gaze. Spy was frowning, and he bared his teeth at the Sniper. 

“Sniper, you’re drunk, stop this at once.”

Sniper chuckled, although it was a bit strained. 

“Who are you to tell me what I am?”

 

Sniper leaned forward. 

“Mr. Man with a thousand faces” 

“That was so idiotic-”

Sniper pressed his lips against the Spy’s, and Spy let out a surprised whine. Letting go of the Spy’s wrist, he gently placed it on the his lower back instead, holding him closer. He felt gloved hands wander to his back, and he felt a giddy rush, gently running his tongue along the other man’s lower lip. 

Pain, a sharp pain located in his upper back, and he let out a harsh cry, arching his spine. Spy pushed him away, and Sniper felt himself start to black out as he hit the floor, his body spasming in it’s final moments. 

“B-Bloody…” 

\----

Respawn’s cold, white sterile walls greeted his tired eyes, and he threw his forearm over his face in a vain attempt to protect them. Respawn had this uncanny ability to sober you up, which worked great for Demoman, but horribly for the Sniper. His actions came crashing down on him like a tidal wave, and he let out an exasperated moan. 

“What the hell did I just do?” 

\----

Spy sighed, watching Sniper’s body fade away as respawn claimed the remains. His knife clattered to the floor, and he quickly stooped down to pick it up, wiping the poor thing off. Flipping it closed, he quickly tucked it away and pulled out his kit, snapping it open and turning it off as he reached for another cigarette. The disguise flickered, and Spy quickly straightened his Burgundy suit, frowning when he noted the multiple ruffles. 

Placing his kit back into it’s designated pocket, Spy stood there, staring at his unlit cigarette with a small frown. Gently, he placed two fingers over his mouth, and under his gloved hand, he smiled.


	3. DemomanScout: If it doesn’t work…

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Demoman doesn't know if it'll work, but at least they can't say he didn't try.

Demoman looked around the room, surprised. The whole interior had donned a ‘high-school prom’ sort of theme, despite it’s usual dingy appearance. He knew Scout had wanted to ask Ms.Pauling out to dinner, but even in his slightly sobered state, he knew this was a tad too much. 

Said boy was standing near the table, tying some baby blue balloons down to one of the chairs. His light brown hair was slicked back in an unusual fashion, and his outfit was pressed and clean. This wasn’t the boy he was use to seeing. This wasn’t the lad who he spent so many nights sharing a cold one with, who had admitted to him unwittingly that he was tired of being alone, the kid who had passed out drunk in the rec room so many times Demo had memorized the warmth of the boy’s body against his own as he carried him back to bed.

This wasn’t that same kid at all. 

Walking up to the lad, Demo casually leaned against one of the chairs, rubbing his thumb along the wooden surface as he tried to calm himself down. It was now or never. 

“ ‘Ey little lad, how’s the prep coming along?”

Scout grinned, glancing up at Demoman for a second before returning his gaze to the task at hand. 

“It’s going great! Miss Paulin’ will be so impressed!”

Demo frowned, looking away and picking at his sleeve absentmindedly. He couldn’t help but feel a tad bit disappointed, an uneasy feeling pooling in his gut.

“Aye, that’s good” he muttered, a vain attempt to keep the conversation going. 

Scout merely hummed in response, too preoccupied to notice the other’s discomfort. Demo’s frown twitched, and he cleared his throat, trying to put the jumbled words in his head together so that he could form some semblance of a sentence. 

“Scout, listen..” he trailed off, swallowing nervously as he looked up. 

Scout had trained his attention on the man, and hazel eyes locked with crystal blues. 

“If… Miss Pauling doesn’t work out... “ Demo sighed, “I wouldn’t mind dancin’ with ya.”

The silence that followed was deafening, and Demo tried to look as confident as he wished he was. 

“Yeah, I mean, I wouldn’t want all of this to go to waste” Scout chuckled, motioning towards the room. Demo still had this funny feeling that Scout was actually motioning towards himself, but he chose to ignore it, focusing on the good instead. 

“Really?” He couldn’t believe his luck, he was so sure Scout was straight! 

“Yeah! That’s what friends do right? Cheer each other up when plans go wrong? I mean, not that this will go wrong, but the suggestion was nice and all!”

Oh… Friends.

Demo nodded, his grin faltering. 

“Aye lad, of course.”

Scout chuckled in response, punching Demo’s shoulder lightly.

“Thanks champ, okay, I’ve got to finish setting up! Wanna crack open a case of beer later?” 

“Yeah, later” Demo muttered, voice strained. He waved as he left, heading towards his room for a bottle of scrumpy. 

Of course, what had he been thinking? Why would Scout want to be… That kind of friend? If Scout wanted a friend, Demo would be the best damn friend possible, it was the least he could do. 

Apparently, it was all he could do.


	4. SoldierMedic: You can’t…

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When dinner becomes a disaster, Soldier decides to investigate.

Scout stumbled out of the kitchen, hands clasped tightly over his mouth for a brief second before he started spewing onto the floor, the vile mess a mixture of red and black. He sobbed between convulsions, gasping quietly for air as pain wracked through his body. Sniper ran out as well, concern written all over his face as he placed a hand on Scout’s back and started rubbing small circles with his thumb, muttering words of encouragement to the boy. 

The RED Soldier frowned, peering at the two from beneath his helmet.

“What the hell is going on?”

“Medic’s cookin’ dinner...” Sniper began, Scout a bit too preoccupied to respond with anything other then gurgled moans. 

“That is no excuse, Hippie!” Soldier barked, narrowing his eyes at the Australian. He didn’t understand why anything Medic made would cause such a reaction from the Scout, who ate almost everything he could get his hands on. The kid was a walking black hole, and as far as Soldier was concerned, he could stomach almost anything as well. He’d seen the boy eat month old food without a hitch, and the kid was always asking for seconds and thirds, especially when the Medic was in charge of dinner. Why he would have such a violent reaction now was a bit unsettling, and Soldier realized that as the team dad, it was his job to get to the bottom of this. 

Shuffling around the duo, Soldier tried to avoid Scout’s mess. He didn’t want to track that shit around, especially into the kitchen. 

As he passed the vomiting boy, he patted him on the back. 

“Don’t worry Son, Daddy will fix it!” 

Scout tried to respond, but his words caught in his throat as he hurled the contents of his stomach once more. Usually, he would have complained that he didn’t need the Soldier to baby him like that, but he was weak and exhausted, so he merely muttered something about ‘dads’ in response. 

As Soldier swung the heavy metal door into the kitchen open, a barrage of black smoke poured out, stinging his eyes and burning his lungs. Covering his mouth and nose with his elbow, he trudged towards the kitchen window, coughing violently between strained breaths. 

As the old creaky hinges announced their use, the room cleared up considerably, and Soldier propped the old window open with a wooden spoon. 

“Medic?”

The doctor was standing over the stove, his hands shaking as he placed an empty glass jar on the countertop next to him. The insides were dyed a light shade of red, the pinkish hue reflecting on the white, polished marble. 

Soldier tried again, “Medic?” 

“What Herr Soldier?” Medic snapped, looking over his shoulder at the disgruntled man. Soldier frowned, clearing his throat and taking a hesitant step forward. Medic was a force to be reckoned with, and Soldier didn’t want to start fighting with the taller man. 

Motioning towards the jar, he tried to start up a friendly conversation. Maybe easing the doctor would make it easier to find out what’s wrong?

“So, we’re having Spaghetti tonight?” That was a favorite here in the RED base, it was the only thing everyone could enjoy. 

Medic’s shoulders drooped, and he shook his head ‘no,’ grabbing the pot by its handles and walking over to the sink. Before the Soldier could protest, Medic poured out the food, leaving the steaming hot mess in the sink. 

“Medic! Why would you put it in the sink?” Soldier cried, running over to the ruined dish. Medic ignored him, turning away and walking back towards the stove. Soldier frowned, observing the Spaghettis pinkish hue. 

“Did you put the sauce in already?”

“Nein” came the tart reply, underlying traces of disgust in his voice. 

“Then what’s-”

“It’s blood, Herr Soldier.”

Soldier took an involuntary step back, raising his hands in front of him. 

“I messed up…” Medic sighed, throwing the hot pot back onto the stove top. His posture, which was usually so straight and orderly, reminded Soldier of a man who had lost everything. His eyes looked aged, dull without that shimmer of life the young seemed to posses. 

Walking up to the man, Soldier clapped a hand on his back, giving him a reassuring smile. 

“It’s okay Nurse! It’s just one pot of Pasta! The italians won’t care if we waste a little, they have an abundance of it anyway!” He tried, a vain attempt to cheer the Medic up. 

Medic shrugged Soldiers hand off, casting the man an annoyed glance. “Herr Soldier, if you think I’d get that upset over a pot of pasta like that, you’re truly the most ignorant individual I’ve ever met” he growled, the tired appearance he had melting away into pure fury. Soldier chuckled, mistaking the man’s hostility for gratitude. 

“Ignorance is the best policy!” 

Medic slapped a hand over his face, dragging it along his features as he tried to compose himself. 

“Herr Soldier, do you even know what that means?” 

Soldier frowned, shaking his head ‘no.’

 

Medic threw his hands up in the air, storming over to the large dining room table and collapsing in one of the wooden seats. He covered his face with his hands, resting them there. 

Soldier hesitantly walked over, sitting down next to the older man. 

Medic dropped his hands, staring at the Soldier with an unamused expression. Soldier really took in the Medic’s appearance, noting the dark, heavy bags under his eyes and his disheveled hair. His glasses were on crooked, and Soldier reached forward, gently straightening them. Medic froze, too tired to protest. 

“So, what’s up Doc?”

Medic sighed, leaning forward and resting his chin on his hand. 

“It’s nothing I can’t fix.”

“What’s nothing you can’t fix?”

 

“What’s up.”

“Why are you questioning me Nurse, you’re the one who needs assistance, right?”

Medic huffed, shaking his head in disbelief. 

Soldier leaned forward, wrapping his arms around the Medic’s torso and resting his head on his chest. Medic sighed, petting Soldier’s helmet affectionately. 

“How can I help you?” Soldier muttered, frustration building up. He wanted to be a good example, to be a good father, but what kind of dad couldn’t even communicate with the Team Mom? 

“You can’t”


	5. BushMedicine: Naps and Tickles.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a little request I fulfilled. Honestly? It isn't the best one here. I might rewrite this later.

Sniper knocked on the door frame, chewing his lip nervously as he looked into the seemingly empty infirmary. As per usual, the Medic had called him down for his monthly check up, the little procedure used to make sure respawn was working accordingly. If he grew or shrunk an inch, Medic would know. If he developed a stomach ache, Medic would know. The man’s uncanny ability to know what was happening in every Mercenary scared the Sniper a little, the Australian not use to the privacy invasion. 

Said man popped up from behind his desk, his hair ruffled and a dove gripped tightly in his hands. 

“Archimedes! Stop trying to eat mein work! Es ist schlecht für dich!” 

“Uh… ‘Ey Nurse” Sniper mumbled, a bit taken aback. 

Medic flinched, looking up. Confusion flashed through his pale ice-like eyes, eyebrows furrowing before recognition finally kicked in. 

 

“Ah, Herr Sniper! I was wondering when you’d show up! Please, come sit down, we have a lot to discuss!” He chirped, releasing his pet and jumping up. 

Sniper nodded, walking towards the small metallic table centered in the middle of the room. He sat on the cold surface, trailing his fingers along the edge as he watched the Medic walk towards one of the many cabinets lining the edge of the room. The German opened one of the many doors, reaching inside and pulling out random miscellaneous objects. 

“So, Herr Sniper, have you had any issues lately? Sinus problems, colds, fevers? Have you noted any weight loss, height differences, respiratory-”

Sniper shook his head, chewing on his lip as the Medic went through an array of questions, each more demanding than the last. He knew he should be answering the Doc’s questions, but he barely had anytime to get a word in before the Doctor drowned him out. 

As time passed, Sniper started to stumble over his words, stuttering and lisping whenever he tried to respond. The stress of the fast paced conversation was catching up to him, and he felt his stomach churn. He unconsciously rubbed his arm, trying to comfort himself. The Medic seemed to sense his unease, so he took a different approach. 

“Okay, time for your physical examination” Medic sighed, putting his papers aside. 

Sniper nodded, watching the Medic stand up and straighten his coat. 

“Okay, take off your shirt and sit back down. I need to examine your frame.” Sniper grumbled under his breath, shrugging his vest off and pulling his old red shirt over his head. The cold air hit his exposed skin, and he shivered. 

 

Medic hummed quietly, grabbing a tape measurer and messing with the adjustments. 

“Hey, Doc?” Sniper mumbled, rubbing the back of his head and avoiding eye contact. 

“Yes?”

“So about that tango…” 

Medic’s movements faltered, and he forced himself to smile, the expression strained. 

“What about it?”

Medic motioned for Sniper to raise his arms, and he complied, watching the man wearily as he started to measure his arm length.

“Well, I just wanted to know-”

Medics fingers brushed over his sides, and Sniper felt his body spasm, lurching back and away from the Medics touch. Flipping over the back of the table, Sniper hit the hard, cold ground with a solid thump. 

“Mein Gott Sniper, what the hell was that?”

 

Sniper gasped, struggling to regain his composure. 

“I-I don’t know? Bloody hell that hurt…” He trailed off, hugging his sides and taking deep breaths. 

Medic hummed, walking around the table and crouching next to the downed man. Reaching forward, his hand hovered over the Sniper’s side. Sniper glared at the Medic, “Don’t you bloody da-”

Sniper convulsed, laughter bubbling up as Medic tickled his sides. He clenched his eyes shut, tears streaming down his face as he tried to squirm away. 

“N-no! Haha Fuck! Damnit Nurse!” Sniper gasped, trying to catch his breath. His sides ached and he felt like his body was on fire. 

He’d never really been tickled before, him being the asocial man that he was, but he never knew it would be so… 

Medic chuckled, pausing to let the Sniper catch his breath. Sniper was covered in a fine sheet of sweat, his cheeks wet from tears and face sore from smiling. The Medic rubbed his hand along the Snipers side affectionately, shaking his head in disbelief. 

“You didn’t tell me you were ticklish, Herr Sniper.”

Sniper sighed, his body relaxing as he laid back. “I didn’t know” he muttered, enjoying the Medic’s comforting touch. The little human interaction he got was usually brutal and undignified, but this… This was nice. 

Medic nodded, sitting down and continuing to stroke the Sniper’s side. They sat like that for god knows how long, but eventually the Medic paused, light snoring emitting from the Sniper. Patting the man lightly, Medic got up, brushing himself off and leaving the other on the floor. The man was tired, he deserved a break. He’d get Heavy to move him, knowing he wouldn’t be able to hoist the large man up by himself. Who knew the stoic man would have such a disadvantage? 

\---

Sniper stretched, the cool sheets embracing his tired body. Reaching around, he felt for his pillow… Wait. Cracking his eyes open, he looked around, confused. He was in his bed? But wasn’t he just in the Medic’s room? He must have had him moved… 

The door swung open, and Medic sauntered into the van, a big grin on his face. Sniper stiffened, watching the other like a hawk. Being tickled once was okay, even if it was a surprise, but he wasn’t looking forward to another session. 

The Medic didn’t approach him though, opting to sit at the dingy table instead. 

“So, how are you feeling? Meine kleine Wilde?”

“Okay? Doc, why are you in here?” 

“To check up on you!” The Medic chirped, straightening some of the Sniper’s magazines. Sniper sighed, running his hands over his face. The Medic had no reason to be in here, this was his sanctuary. 

Said man sighed, throwing the little stack he had made aside. Standing up, Sniper watched with mild disinterest as the medic started unbuttoning his coat, shrugging it off. Walking over to the bunk, he kicked off his shoes. 

“What are you doin’ Doc?”

 

Medic gave Sniper a tired grin, climbing up onto the bunk as well. 

Sniper flinched back, scooting over as the Medic layed down beside him. 

 

“I’m taking a nap” he stated, matter of factly. 

Sniper frowned, back pressed against the wall as he tried to make enough room. Medic was a large man, and the twin size cot wasn’t really cutting it. Medic’s back pressed against the Sniper’s front, and Sniper tried to bite back the snarky remarks he wanted to make.   
“Why here? You have a bed of your own, don’t you?”  
“Ja” Medic hummed, “but I shared my room with you when you fell asleep, it is only fair that you do the same.”

 

Sniper nodded, choosing not to argue with the man. 

 

“Fine”

The two laid side by side, back to front as the hours passed by. Eventually, Sniper felt the Medic’s stiff posture relax, the man succumbing to his exhaustion. Wrapping an arm around his waist, Sniper relaxed, holding the Medic close as he fell asleep.

He could definitely get use to this.


	6. SpyEngineer: It’ll be okay.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Humiliation round drabble.

He bit his lip, red obscuring his vision as he tried to stifle his moans. He had torn through the thin, sensitive skin some time ago, and red, hot liquid slithering down his chin. The wound was nothing compared to the rest of his body, but waves of agony still washed over him with every breath, and he clenched his eyes shut, tears washing streaks through the dirt on his bruised and battered face. 

 

Screams of agony and fear shook him to his core, and he vainly attempted to squeeze more of himself into the small crawlspace he had found. The trail of red droplets leading to his little sanctuary were definitely a cause for concern, and if that didn’t give him away, his bright RED Suit would catch any passing BLU’s attention.

Maybe this was his fault, he had been so sure they’d win. The REDs were doing great, despite the tie, and Spy had let himself relax, slacking off on his normal duties. Before he knew it, his whole team was scrambling to hide, the BLU Scout snatching their intelligence from right under their noses. 

The RED Soldier screamed some profanities in the distance, which were quickly silenced by two rapid gunshots. Spy flinched, muscles tensing and breath hitching. 

‘Breath…’ he told himself, wrapping his arms around his torso. His left leg laid to the side, white bone poking out of his thigh and through the thin, red fabric. Courtesy of that damn BLU Demoman, of course. He had taken his tie off, using it as a torque to slow the blood loss. Flesh clung to the end of the bone, some of it peeled back and away from the wound. Spy could see the gash pulse with every heartbeat, and he focused on the small spurting of his arteries, finding subtle beauty interlaced in his discomfort. It wasn’t a pretty sight, but most wounds weren’t. Rubbing his sides, he flinched. Several cuts and bruises littered the rest of his body, and he was pretty sure he’d broken some ribs as well. The tender flesh screaming for attention and flaring under the slightest touch. 

Maybe he should just go through respawn, it’d be cleaner than letting Medic patch him up. If he made it until the humiliation round was over, that is. But the hellish nightmares associated with that damn machine kept him at bay. He rather let the madman add a few scars to his decaying body, they wouldn’t be too noticeable under his suit anyway. 

“How many more REDs do ya think are left, Snipes?” 

Spy froze, the BLU Scout’s black running shoes passing his hiding spot without hesitation. Two dusty, old, brown boots soon followed, and Spy tried to stifle any sneezes. 

“I don’ know, few more I reckon. There can’t be too many lurking around here anyway” the bushman grumbled, his voice deep and gravelly. 

Spy held his breath, clenching his eyes shut and counting the seconds as they ticked by. The two talked casually, resting their elbows on the table Spy was under. Said Spy tried to stay as still as possible, desperately wishing his cloaking device worked during the humiliation rounds. But no, that’d be cheating. 

The duo talked about their recent kills, bragging about different things and making fun of the REDs. Spy felt his head start to throb, and he slowly exhaled, his shaky breath going unnoticed by the others. 

“Hey Truckie, ya gonna help us hunt down some REDs?” Sniper called out, and Spy watched two steel toed boots come into view, joining the others at the table. 

“Naw, I have stuff to do. You boys get out of here before Soldier finds the rest without y’all” he replied, the subtle demand not going unnoticed. Both of the other men shuffled uneasily, hesitating for a second. Spy silently prayed that they’d stay, knowing that if engineer got him alone, the man would take his time killing the RED. He had targeted the texan during the match, and the man would definetly enjoy putting a few extra holes in him to make up for his lost sentries. 

Scout’s feet shuffled in place for a bit, before quickly disappeared around the edge of the desk, the quick footsteps stopping after a couple of steps. 

“Ya comin’ Snipes?”

The Sniper’s boots stayed stock still, and the man huffed quietly. 

“Hey Roo, are you bleedin’ by chance?” Sniper grumbled, and Spy noted how his blood trail had been smeared by the Scout’s shoes, showing the kids careless disdain for his surroundings. Engineer chuckled, and Spy heard something thump above him. 

 

“Don’t worry about it Stretch, I saw Soldier come through here with a bloody arm not too long ago.”

Sniper hummed, and he seemed to accept the excuse, his feet hesitating for a minute before taking off after the Scout. 

The two left the room, their voices receding as they discussed the event in low, hushed tones. 

“I have no idea how those two blockheads didn’t see ya crouchin’ under the table like that” Engie sighed, shuffling something around on the tabletop. Spy let out a weak chuckle, knowing there wasn’t much else he could do. 

 

“What can I say? I’m a master of invisibility.” He noted how his voice had a strained undertone, and he tried to lighten the mood, adopting a higher octave. 

The Engineer just sighed, tapping his fingers on the table top. 

 

“Okay, that’s enough, ya snake. Come on out here and fight me like a man, it’d be a shame if ya just layed there and let me hand ya an ass whoopin’.”

Spy shifted uneasily, retreating further under the table.

“I… I can’t.”

“What?”

 

“I can’t move.”

Engineer squatted, peering under the table with a confused glare. His eyebrows rose, and he got onto his knees, his gaze never leaving the Spy’s beaten body. 

“Geez Snake, what the hell happened ta ya?”

 

Spy let out a wheezing chuckle, the effort putting a bit too much strain on his body. 

“Your Demoman and I had a little… Disagreement” he offered. 

The Engineer sighed, reaching forward with his gloved hand. Spy flinched back, hissing as his ribs shifted in response. 

“Damn, you ain’t a fuckin’ animal Spy, let me see just how roughed up ya are.”

Spy stilled, letting the Engineer run his thumb gently over the his swollen eye. Engie tutted quietly, quickly withdrawing his hand when Spy flinched, the hand aggravating his wounds. He should be dead, Engineer wasn’t the kind of man who prolonged the inevitable, and his strange concern for the other unsettled the Spy. Said Spy let out a pathetic whimper, and Engineer looked up at him, eyebrows furrowing. 

“You can go through respa-”

“Non!” Spy growled, baring his teeth, “I will not go through that hellish machine!”

Engineer frowned, resting his hand on his forehead and leaning back.

“Spy, don’t be ridiculous! Even Medic can’t heal wounds that big! You’ll be out for months at least!”

Spy looked at the ground, shaking his head. He really… He couldn’t go through respawn. The nightmares, the memories… He wasn’t ready to experience that again. 

“I can’t…” He muttered, voice barely audible. 

“Why not?” Engineer demanded, crossing his legs.

Spy looked up, locking his gaze on the onyx goggles. 

“I’m scared.”

Engineer smiled, chuckling. “You, scared? Spy, don’t shit with me…”

He looked at the Spy again, taking in his hurt expression. The way the Spy’s eyes glistened, wide with a mixture of emotions. It was so strange, seeing a man who held such a stoic, superior complex reduced to being blubbering mess. It was like Spy was actually human, a man who held fears and hopes and dreams that could be achieved, if he tried. Now, looking at him in such a vulnerable state, he realized that he wasn’t just the enemy Spy.

He was human. 

Reaching forward, he gently cupped the Spy’s cheek, trying to comprehend what he had just realized. He wasn’t a man who’d ponder the philosophical spectrum of normal conundrums, hell, he was a man of science. But now…

He leaned forward, placing a gentle kiss on the Spy’s forehead, and then resting his own against the injured man’s. Spy had stiffened under his touch, but he knew he could worry about it later.

“Don’t be scared” he whispered, trying to comfort the panicking man.   
“It’ll be okay”

He pulled the trigger.


	7. EngineerScout: Doodles.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scout's an artist, Engie's suave af.

The BLU Scout chewed on the end of his pencil, his buck teeth etching small grooves into the soft wood. He had been staring down at his sketch book for the past half hour at least, but he couldn’t figure out what was wrong with it. The woman he had drawn had long, black hair, with stunning eyes that captured her animosity and mysterious nature perfectly.   
She was beautiful in every way, but he knew something was off.   
There was always something wrong. 

Groaning, he leaned forward, resting his forehead on the cold table top. He could hear the Pyro messing around in the kitchen, his muffled humming offering a small sense of comfort in the cold, sterile, dining room.   
He had sat down at the team table a couple of hours ago, inspiration running high and humility running low. 

Now, as he stared down at the picture in disgust, the urge to rip it up caused his fingers to twitch. But he couldn’t, he had worked too hard on it. 

As he tried to figure out what to do next, a rough hand landed on his shoulder. Scout jumped, spinning around with his fists raised. Engineer smiled down at him, unfaltering despite the Scout’s violent reaction. 

Scout sighed, running his hand through his hair and chuckling nervously. 

 

“Shit Engie, you gave me a heart attack!” He joked, turning back to his picture. Engineer shrugged, huffing as he collapsed in the open seat next to the boy. Spreading out his blue prints, he started writing formulas and equations onto the blue gridded paper. 

“Sorry Bucko” he muttered, glancing over at the kids paper, “what are ya up to?”

Scout frowned, motioning towards the art weakly. He didn’t really want to show Engie his artwork, but sitting at the table for no reason would arouse suspicion. 

“Doodling…”

Engineer gapped, motioning towards the art in disbelief.   
“Boy, that’s some of the best work I’ve seen in ages! You drew that?”

Scout nodded, averting his gaze.   
“Yeah, but I messed up…” 

The other frowned, eyeing the paper once more, “how?”

Scout shrugged, wringing his hands in his lap and chewing his bottom lip nervously.   
“She just… She just don’t look good… Stop tryin’ ta flatter me Engie, I know how bad it is.”

Engineer frowned, looking at the boys dejected expression. Who knew the kid was so sensitive? He gently grabbed the paper, picking it up and looking at the woman. She really was beautiful, and he smirked, glancing over at the boy from the corner of his eye. 

“What’s her name?”

“What?”

“What’s her name?” He repeated, motioning towards the woman. 

Scout shrugged, “it’s my ma…” He muttered. 

Engineer held the picture up to Scouts face, and the boy stilled, letting the man observe the subtle similarities between the two. 

“Yeah, I can see it”

Scout cast him a confused glance, eyebrows furrowing.   
“See what?”

“How y’all are related. I mean, you are both stunning individuals” Engie chuckled, setting the picture down. 

“Here, I have a picture I’d like to show ya! Its of my favorite artists, this guy’s really amazing, gonna be a top class professional one day...”

Scout watched with mild disinterest as Engie dug through his bag, his mind still stumbling over the last compliment. 

“Ah! Here it is!”

Engineer held up a mirror, showing it to Scout. Said boy noted how his cheeks were a light shade of pink, his crystal blue eyes glimmering under the flourescent lights. He bit his lip, looking at the Engineer. 

“Ain’t he a beaut?” Engie chuckled, and Scout felt his stomach flip. 

“Engie, that’s just a mirror…”

Engie nodded, “I know.”


	8. ShySpy: Les oubliés.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the lovely Nicky123123, who left one of the best request I've had so far! 
> 
> He doesn't talk anymore, he doesn't have to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ::WARNING::
> 
> Language, mild descriptions of violence, and emotional damage.

Wringing his hands nervously, Spy’s eyes danced around the room, taking in the appearance of each and every man. The BLU team was known for having it’s array of mentally unstable occupants, and he just happened to be one of the few sane ones left. If anyone else had any semblance of reason, they didn’t let the others catch on, taking Spy as an example of what would happen if they did. 

It hadn’t been an issue at first, at least, he hadn’t thought it was. During his first couple of weeks, he almost felt like the team had accepted him, commenting on his good work and encouraging him to do better during the next round. As time passed, however, he started to notice the little things that had originally gone over his head. The side-ways glance here and there, the frowns and disapproving glares, the muttered whispers and chuckles as he passed by. 

He had brushed it off, telling himself that he was being overdramatic. This was his team, they would never isolate him for any reason. He could trust them. 

What a load of bullshit. 

He could clearly remember the first time someone had hit him. 

 

They had recently lost a match, and tensions were running high. Maybe it was his fault, he had let some offhanded comment slip about how if Soldier had actually contributed, they might have won. Thinking back on it now, that’s probably where it all started. 

Soldier had lunged at him, an array of fury and hatred dancing over his features. Cringing back, Spy had watched with wide eyes as the calloused fist flew towards his face, connecting solidly with his jaw. His head had snapped back, his cigarette flying from his mouth and landing mere inches away from where his head hit the floor, still smoldering. 

The others had laughed, their chortling rising above the ringing in his ears. Shaking his head slowly, Spy tried to sit up, but found that any attempts to move were quickly dismissed, his body still recovering from the shock. He let his head fall to the side, copper flooding his mouth as he spit out a broken tooth. 

“Merde” he groaned. 

It felt like he couldn’t even put his thoughts together to form a reasonable sentence, and he watched as the team filed out of the room, leaving the newest member alone to sort through the situation by himself. 

After that, it had only gotten worse. 

Soldier had a lot of fun tormenting the Spy, and if the day wasn’t going to good for someone else, they’d join in on the mischief as well. At first, Spy had hoped the older man would forget about him, that he would leave the Spy alone, and said Spy could try to repair the broken relationships he had formed with his team members.

But he was sorely mistaken. 

As days of bullying turned into weeks, and weeks into months, Spy found himself trying to adapt to the harsh circumstances. The team slowly became corrupted by the Soldiers harsh treatment, and had taken up the habit of picking on the Spy as well. Needless to say, the Spy found his ability to become invisible a necessity. 

He didn’t talk anymore. 

He didn’t have to.   
Not even when facing off with his opponents. They would throw harsh insults at him, calling him weak and useless, and he’d take them in stride. He knew they were true, there’s always some truth behind everything after all. 

He learned how to take care of his own injuries. 

The wounds he received in battle only became scars that were added to his worn and battered body, causing mild discomfort once in a blue moon. The Medic had stopped healing him weeks ago. Now he’d avoid mirrors, choosing to let his memories of a perfect body suffice.   
If he had a broken bone, he’d have to kill himself so respawn could patch it up properly, but the nightmares that the machine produced made each trip a bit worse than the last, so he tried to avoid getting any serious injuries altogether. 

Hell, he tried to avoid his team all together. But when they were in the same room, like now, he’d keep an eye on everyone’s mood, staying back and in the shadows like a good Spy. If someone was pissed, he’d cloak, praying they’d forgotten about their little ‘chew toy.’ 

“Are you maggots ready to whoop some RED ass?” Soldier growled, grinning wildly like an animal that had escaped confinement. 

The men whooped their affirmation, raising their fists and weapons in a hellish war display. Spy merely pulled out his kit, trying to remain discreet as he flipped through his options. His body was throbbing from the recent abuse it had undergone, Soldier’s little fit from the last round showing clearly on his neck in the form of a dark and angry looking bruise. He swallowed thickly, eyes watering when the action caused his injury to throb. 

Reaching up, he unconsciously rubbed it, tracing small circles onto the swollen flesh. 

He didn’t want this anymore, but there was nothing he could do. He was so use to being in control of the situation, of knowing what his mission was, of knowing how and when to get things done. But now, thrown into this chaotic lifestyle, he was nothing more than a little blip in the cosmos of everything. 

Just as Soldier had stated so many times before,   
he was nothing. 

‘MISSION BEGINS IN FIVE-’

Spy straightened up, flicking his cloak on while he watched the other men shuffle to get into position. 

‘FOUR’

He winced, the Administrators harsh voice grating against his eardrums. Sidling up to the front, he placed a hand on the doorframe, leaning forward in anticipation. 

‘THREE’

Out there, he was almost the same man he had been when he had signed that damn contract. The same man who had such high hopes and a big ego to match. Where had those aspects of himself gone?

‘TWO’ 

Maybe they never really were there? Maybe he had told himself that to make himself feel better. Maybe he had always been like this. 

‘ONE’

The screams of war filled his head, and he quickly switched to battle mode, running out onto the field before the fire could really begin. Normally, a Spy wouldn’t have to worry about being injured by his own teammates, but no, he wasn’t a normal Spy. The BLU Sniper had a bad habit of shooting him, a vain effort to make his score sheet look worse, thus giving everyone a good reason to hand his ass back to him on a silver platter. 

Ducking behind a large outcrop, he decloaked, letting the poor device charge. He was barely winded, the short sprint nothing compared to what he knew he could do. Glancing around the battlefield, he tried to determine where he would be needed the most. 

The RED Engineer hadn’t gotten his Sentries up yet, so there was nothing to sap over there… The RED Medic and Heavy were separated already, so he wouldn’t have to break that lovely duo up either. 

Biting the edge of his thumb, he frowned. 

“Stop being a lazy piece of shit!” Soldier shouted, whacking the unsuspecting Spy over the head with the flat of his shovel. Spy stumbled forward, face first into the large rock situated in front of him. His face grated painfully against the textured surface, and when he pulled back, burgundy blood stained the fabric of his balaclava. 

He tentatively reached up with a trembling hand, trying to gauge the amount of damage. His lip quivered, and he bit it, trying to hold back his moans.   
Soldier smirked, “Not so high and mighty now, are you Sp-”

A loud gunshot rang out, and Soldier’s body collapsed into a dusty pile of limbs and blood. 

Looking up, Spy squinted, trying to see where the source of the bullet had come from. A Sniper’s muzzle withdrew into the outlook on the far side of the map, and Spy quickly took cover, expecting another shot to ring out at any moment. 

Nothing. 

He cloaked, frowning and heading towards the unsuspecting RED. This wasn’t right, the RED Sniper was an intelligent man, he wouldn’t give the Spy a chance. 

So why was he still standing? 

He avoided the general chaos of the battlefield reasonably well, sidling around major confrontations and his own teammates with ease. The constant barrage of rockets and gunshots masked the sounds of pain he made as he sidestepped another large Heavy, the RED oblivious as always. He could take him out, but he didn’t want to give away his position… 

He didn’t risk it. 

As he approached the ladder leading up to the outpost, he debated whether it would really be worth it. He wasn’t in the best fighting condition, but then again, was he ever? He chose to take the chance, so he could at least say that he tried. 

The climb was painful, each step worse than the last. As he neared the small opening above, he swallowed nervously, the bruise throbbing in response.

Once he got into the cramped little space, he leaned against a wall, trying to steady his unstable breathing. He placed a gloved hand over his chest, his breaths raspy and quick. It shouldn’t be this difficult to climb a ladder damnit! He was such a weakling. 

Looking up, Spy froze, heart stuttering silently. The Sniper was right in front of him, maybe two or four steps away. He could almost feel the warmth radiating off of the man, his body shifting as he adjusted his aim for another shot. 

Taking a few hesitant steps forward, Spy reached into his coat pocket, grabbing his blade and flipping it open on the way out. It was like the man had no idea he was here, and he decloaked, letting his cover drop with a soft whoosh. 

The Sniper flinched, whipping around and reaching for his kukri.   
Panicking, Spy lunged, intent on stabbing the man before he could reach his weapon, but he was too slow. The Sniper smacked the Spy’s knife out of the way, forgoing his own blade and wrapping an arm around the Spy’s waist. Spy was confused, but only for a split second, his body being lifted off of the ground and thrown right back down again. 

Sniper growled, straddling the stunned Spy and wrapping his hands around the other’s throat.   
Said man gasped quietly for air, reaching up to grab the Sniper’s face and dig his thumbs into his eyes, anything to get this damn man off of him. 

Normally, Spy would have continued looking for a weak point, but the sudden flare of pain caused his back to arch, and he let out a small wheeze. His gloved hands grasping uselessly at the others hands, digging for any purchase they could find. But the Sniper remained unfazed, glaring down at the man he was strangling through his honey tinted aviators. 

“S-S'il vous plaît” Spy croaked, pleading with his eyes as he tried to suck in more air. The Sniper frowned, confusion flitting across his features as he loosed his grip. Spy groaned, trying to roll away, but trapped under the Sniper’s weight. He let his arms fall uselessly to his sides, head lolling over as well. He was so tired, maybe the Sniper would grant him a quick death, especially if he didn’t put up a fight. 

“What’s the matter with you?” Sniper grumbled, holding Spy’s hands over his head with one of his own. 

Spy avoided eye contact. 

Only when he felt the man’s free hand groping at the edge of balaclava did Spy react, arching and bucking to dislodge the larger mercenary. 

“Vas te faire encule!” he spat, rage getting the better of him.

Sniper just ignored his little fit, continuing to peel the thin fabric away from the smaller man’s neck. He stopped, a large hand shaped bruise wrapping around the smaller man’s jugular. 

He eyed it, carefully aligning his own hand to the mark. 

“Who did this?”

Spy snapped his mouth shut.

“Who did this?” Sniper repeated, growling and leaning closer to the Spy’s face. Spy withered beneath the harsh glare, biting his lip and trying not to let the small little sniffles he felt out. His eyes watered though, and he blinked away the tears, chest tightening in response. 

“Why would you care?” he finally managed, voice hoarse. 

The Sniper leaned back, frowning. Using his free hand, he carefully wiped away one of the tears with hs thumb, gauging the Spy’s reaction. When the smaller man didn’t flinch away, Sniper carefully got up, still holding on to one of the Spy’s wrists and pulling him into his lap. The Sniper was sitting with his legs crossed on the floor, and he had cradled the Spy in his embrace, wrapping his arms around the frozen man. 

Spy wasn’t sure how to feel about any of this.

He was paid to kill men like the Sniper, yet here was, hugging his enemy in the middle of battle.

He wanted to scream. He wanted to punch the other, to tell him to go fuck himself, to tell him that he could take his thumb and shove it up his ass. 

But he didn’t.

He couldn’t.

Instead, he gripped onto the Sniper’s shoulders, burying his face into the crook of the taller man’s neck and sobbed. He let it out, weeks of pent up frustration, hatred, and grief overcoming him in a tidal wave he couldn’t possibly hope to control. 

The Sniper just hummed softly, rubbing small circles into his back. Spy sniffed, the smell of burnt coffee and sweets, mixed with a hint of dirt, overwhelmed him, giving some semblance of comfort. 

“‘M sorry Spook” Sniper whispered, his words cutting through the Spy’s hiccuping. 

“‘M sorry they had to go and turn into a bunch of asses, it’ll get better, I promise.”

Spy just nodded, trying to take Sniper’s words to heart. It’ll get better, even with a small start like this. 

That small start… God, he didn’t know what happened.

He was addicted, and found himself mentally retreating to that moment during the rough times. 

Like now. 

Soldier’s boot connected with his abdomen, and he felt his body spasm in response.   
But he couldn’t care less.   
Right now, he wasn’t even there, having his body beaten to a bloody pulp.  
He was with Sniper. 

The Sniper in his mind shushed him quietly, humming and holding him close. He didn’t need to worry about stuff like this. 

It’d get better.

The metallic baseball caved his skull in, coming from seemingly nowhere. 

He had woken up in respawn, sobbing in a fetal position. Sweat gave his skin a shimmering appearance, and he had felt as disgusting a he looked.

But then he remembered Sniper.  
And things were a little bit better.

Said man became his safe haven, the person he could go to during his time of need. Every time the Spy came to visit, the taller man would set down his gun, walking over to the smaller man and pulling him into an embrace. 

At first, they had just cuddled, Sniper’s comforting words etching themselves into Spy’s mind. 

Spy fondly remembered when they first kissed. 

It had been raining, the downpour masking the sounds of battle. Spy had been nursing a shrapnel wound, one of the Soldier’s rockets going off too close… His arm was shredded, flesh clinging to his suit’s fabric like it’d been fused together. He didn’t know where he wanted to go exactly, but he had to patch himself up, he had to fix himself. 

He could remember how the Sniper jumped up, stumbling over to him as he tried to push the door open. He remembered how the man had fretted over his wound, pulling him over to an abandoned crate and sitting him down on the splintered surface. A blanket had been draped over his shoulders, and he embraced the warmth, trying to get comfortable under the wooly thing. 

Spy had watched, a smile smile gracing his lips, as the Sniper tended to him. The man was trying not to hurt the Spy anymore then necessary, but he clearly didn’t know the extent of his abuse. 

Looking up from his crouched position, Sniper had frowned, lips pulled into a thin line. 

“Does it hurt?”

“Non”

Sniper bit his lip, averting his gaze. After some hesitation, he leaned up, cupping the spy’s cheek with one of his calloused hands, and gently hold his injured arm in the other. 

“Are you sure?”

He had nodded, breathless. 

Sniper went for it, pressing his lips gently against the Spy’s. His lips were chast and cold in comparison, but Spy had returned the affection with needless abandon. 

It had been short and sweet.

Spy glared down at the glass cup in his hands, the golden liquid within tempting him to take another sip, to let that burning sensation consume him from within. 

It was always short and sweet. 

The train whistle had screamed it’s arrival, and he cringed, trying not to break the fevered kiss they shared. This was his last day with the man, God knew when he would see him again. His hands, ungloved, has ventured over the other man’s body, trying to memorize the feeling over hot skin under his touch. Sniper had done the same, his large hands flitting over the various scars and wounds the Spy hoisted under his ruffled suit. 

He didn’t want to lose this. 

He didn’t want to lose him. 

“I’ll be back... I’ll write” the man had whispered, urgent and unyielding. 

Spy nodded, too distracted to doubt the man’s claims.

Sniper cupped his cheek, forcing him to look him in the eye. Dark brown locked with crystal blues, and Spy gave the Sniper a weak smile, trying to make up an excuse for the tears in his eyes. 

“I love you.”

Spy’s breath hitched, and he nodded. 

“I love you too.”

 

It’s been weeks, the abuse hasn’t stopped, but the letters have.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry! This was suppose to be a short drabble, but then it became a ten page monster! I still love it though!


	9. BushMedicine: What if? ((Part Three))

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Because this "short story" has developed into three separate chapters?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! There will be a five part Kid!RED Team story coming out in a day or so! Keep an eye out for it!

Maybe it was the sudden cold draft that woke him, maybe it was the uncomfortable silence that had developed, he wouldn’t know. All he knew was waking up alone when he had been so lovingly embraced as he fell asleep was throwing off some major warning signs in his mind, and he immediately tried to mentally recap the event to figure out what he’d done wrong. What had he screwed up this time?   
Maybe the Medic didn’t want to be held, maybe the Sniper had taken it too far. Maybe the Doctor was playing with the Sniper, toying with his raw and unadulterated emotions. Maybe he had been trying to get a rise out of him. Whatever it was, he couldn’t hold back the shuddering sigh that escaped his lips, a heavy feeling developing in his stomach. 

 

He wasn’t use to dealing with others, spending the majority of his time alone in his camper, or out hiking around the base. Maybe isolating himself was a mistake… Maybe if he’d spent more time with his team, he’d know how to react to situations like this.   
Just maybe he’d know how to feel about his turbulent emotions. 

It was Saturday, so he knew he wouldn’t have to get up for another hour or so, the battle postponed until Monday rolled around. But he couldn’t just lie there either. He felt twitchy, a strange and sudden rush of energy running through him. Maybe he could find the Doctor… 

As he sidled down the ladder, he mentally ran through a game plan. He could start with some small probing about the others day, slowly working his way towards the subject of the little… Event. God, what could he call that? Cuddling seemed too affectionate, but sleeping together would sound too sexual. He reached down, scooping up the discarded shirt he had thrown aside the previous night off the floor. Maybe it was like… A platonic cuddle. Right? He doubted the Medic would hold any affection for a rough and tumble man like himself, hell, he barely held any affection for himself. But as he shrugged the shirt on, he vaguely recalled the way Medic’s hands had felt trailing down his sides, the way his breath hitched as the other stroked him affectionately. Although the latter man would never know, sniper had felt his heart give an uncharacteristic flutter at the others touch. 

He wanted more moments like that. 

Maybe it’s selfish, he thought, swinging his door open. The hot air poured over him, stifling and thick with dust. He coughed, taking off his hat and waving it in front of his face in a vain attempt to circulate some more air his way. If anything, it made him feel worse. 

Maybe wanting someone who belonged to everyone for himself was selfish, the Medic wasn’t his alone, the Medic was the team’s Doctor. Holding him up after hours just to cuddle with him would take away valuable time the Nurse could use to complete his daily tasks. 

He’d be holding the team back if he pursued the other.

 

The base was only a short walk away, and Sniper gratefully threw open the heavy metal doors, the cool interior welcoming and clean compared to the desert’s natural condition. His shirt, although light, felt heavy and hot against his skin. Normally, he wouldn’t have issues with the desert’s unbearable heat, but today was a bit hotter than the previous ones he’d experienced.   
No doubt the team would be hunkering down in the Den, drinking a couple of cool ones and watching TV.   
He walked in, observing the other men. The majority of them were shirtless, all frowning and watching the Television set’s iffy reception. Even Scout was quiet for once, sipping at his beer and resting his forehead against his knees, legs drawn up on the couch. Needless to say, they looked miserable. 

“Are you guys all right?” He tried, offering them a small smile to show his sympathy. 

 

Heavy groaned, face beat red as he rested against the coach, too hot to respond properly. Sniper bit his lip and briefly wondered if the large Russian would die from the heat. If anything, respawn would bring him back, and then he could go through the whole process again. 

“Well, I hope you guys find a way to cool off…” he mumbled, clearing his throat. “M-Maybe you guys could hook up the hose…” 

“Oh yeah! Let’s do that!” Scout chirped, perking up immediately. The others grumbled, hesitant. 

“The cold water would help-”

“Cool us off!” Scout interrupted, taking over the whole plan. He started jabbering about sprinklers and stuff, so Sniper tuned him out, eyes roaming over the array of Mercenaries. He had found the majority of the group, but not the one he had come here for… 

He glanced around, checking one last time before heading back out. If the Nurse wasn’t in there… He’d probably be in his office. The infirmary was known for having a cool and reasonable interior, and the Doctor would probably be hiding out in there. As he walked through the halls though, he couldn’t help but let the little snippets of doubt enter his mind again. What if he really was holding his team back by doing this? What if the Medic wanted to retire with him? Would the medic want to spend the rest of his days with a sun-cooked Australian? What if-

He stopped, the Infirmary doors a hell of a lot more intimidating than he remembered.   
Clearing his throat, he raised his fist to knock, worn knuckles hovering just above the metal framework. So many what-if’s ran through his mind, so many worries about the future and the present. But as he stood there, chewing his lip, he realized something. 

He couldn’t care less.


	10. Kid!RED Team: Part One.

“Dear god” 

The words barely came out as a whisper, his eyes widening in disbelief behind his onyx, scratched goggles. He couldn’t really comprehend what he was seeing, but God did he try. Demoman… No, Demoboy? Was trying to crack open one of his bottles of scrumpy, his small fingers attempting to work the cap off in vain, tightening and squeezing the top. When he saw Engineer though, he stopped, perking up and motioning towards the bottle.   
“Aye!” He chirped, and Engie jumped, taken aback by the way the man sounded.   
“Mind doing me a solid and cracking this lovely lass open for me? I can’t seem to-” He trailed off, giving it another go. His face, similar save for the lack of stubble and… Eyepatch, scrunched up in determination, his smaller clothing consisting of a burgundy red long sleeve shirt with some ashen grey pants. 

“How the hell did this happen?” Engie gasped, strutting over to the smaller child and picking up the bottle. He knew he wasn’t really that good with children, but he wasn’t an idiot. 

“No, Demo, you can’t have any of this ‘lovely lass,’ ya hear?” 

Demo pouted, crossing his arms over his chest, “why not?”

“Well” Engineer began, pointing at the man’s small frame. “I don’t think you could handle it.”

“I-”

“And second of all, it’s illegal for children to drink.” 

“I’m not a child!” Although it was a blatant lie, Demo tried to hold to it, puffing himself up and glaring at the sho- taller man. Engineer rolled his eyes, although he knew the action couldn’t be seen. He wasn’t one for poking at his fellow Mercs, but he couldn’t resist patting the child affectionately as he passed by. He could hear him growl and shuffle about, but eventually small quick hesitant footsteps followed after his own, and a small hand tentatively gripped onto the edge of his overalls. 

Engineer glanced down at the kid from the corner of his eye.   
“What are you doing?” 

Demo jumped, as if caught doing something dirty or wrong, but his wide eyes and frightened expression told Engie otherwise. 

“Well, I mean… I never realized how intimidating the base looked before now…” 

Engie chuckled, offering his hand to the small child. Demoboy smiled, accepting it gratefully, biting the edge of his sleeve as they walked down the hall together. Engie felt his gut churn, worry settling into the pit of his stomach. If the Demoman was like this… Then what about the others? He had tried to remain calm, or at least appear that way, but in reality- God! How the hell had this happened? Sure, he’d heard of some freak Respawn incidents, but resetting a man so he appeared twenty to thirty years younger? He didn’t even know the machine knew what the men looked like then! He sighed, wiping his free hand against his brow. This was fine, one freak incident was predictable, one Merc getting the short end of the stick was okay. He’d fix it up and send Demo- Oh God. He felt his heart stutter. 

Demo would have to go through respawn to correct the damage. 

Engie felt bile rise to the back of his throat, and he glanced down at the young boy from the corner of his eye. He couldn’t kill him, not like this. Maybe… He’d find a way? 

Demo tugged on his arm, catching his attention.   
“Listen, I’m kind of thirsty… Can we stop by the kitchen?” 

Engie nodded, changing course. 

Yeah, he’d fix it, he couldn’t send a child through respawn like that. 

As they approached the kitchen, Engie could hear shuffling, the sound soft against the sound of their own heavy footsteps. 

Well, his at least. 

Demoboy must have heard it as well, because he stumbled, slowing down and hiding himself behind the Engineer. He briefly wondered if the drunken Scotsman really had been this timid as a child, and he wondered what could have caused such a personality flip. But that was a thought for later, and he returned his attention back to the issue at hand. Slowing down as well, he peeked around the corner, checking to see who was there. 

No one? He didn’t want to run into any of the other men, especially with the Demoboy like this. The taunts and teasing would destroy the kid, that, or one of Soldiers attempts to parent the child would. But, if the room was clear, it’d be fine to hang around for a bit. The base had been uncharacteristically quiet now that he thought about it, but he didn’t really think about why-

“Ya backstabbing jerk-face!’ Demo screamed, and Engie flinched, spinning around in surprise. Demo had another small child in a headlock, said child squirming to escape his grasp. It looked like Demo was contemplating murder, and Engineer quickly stepped in, separating the two scuffling boys before matters could get out of hand. 

The young boy covered his face with a hand, an oversized watch on his wrist and a neat little ash grey vest accompanying some chocolate brown shorts for clothing. His brown locks didn’t remind Engineer of anyone he knew, and he tightened his grip on the small boys wrist. Demo was still scrabbling after the other, his futile attempts semi-adorable. 

“Lemme at him! He tried to stab me!” 

“With what?” 

A sharp pain in his hand caused him to snap his arm away from the small child, and he hissed in pain as blood dribbled onto the floor. “What the hell?” 

A small fork was in his hand. 

A fork. 

He groaned, clutching his injury close to his body to observe the damage. “What kind of two faced little bugger stabs a man with a fork?” He glanced up, eyes meeting Demo’s frightened gaze. He seemed to switch between his two varying personalities depending on the situation, and now that the ‘threat’ was gone, he’d returned to being childlike. Sighing, he reached forward to pick up the kid. He didn’t want him to get hurt as well, and the little ankle-biter could be anywhere. 

The little ankle biter… Spy? 

He groaned, and Demo quickly wrapped his small arms around his neck, trying to comfort him.   
“What?”

Engineer chuckled, the sound strained. “How many of you turned?”   
One mishap, sure, that wasn’t an issue. But two? That meant there was a small chance there’d be a third, or even a fourth… 

“Let’s get you something to drink, and then I should go see Doc.”

Demo shook his head no, biting the edge of his sleeve again.   
“Let’s see Doc now, because I’m pretty sure forks aren’t suppose t’ be in hands…”

“Damn right they ain’t” 

If the Spy was a child with his normal adult-personality, it might have been okay. But if Demoboy was anything to go off of, whenever the men were rewound, they adopted their former childlike tendencies. Spy sure was a little hellion as a child. Engineer mentally promised to get the Spy back for his injury later. 

Demoboy was nodding off in his arms, and Engie adjusted his grip as they walked through the halls, trying to remain as quiet as possible. The small child must be pretty tired if he was falling asleep like this, and Engie felt a flutter of protection roll through him, a sudden desire to defend this boy developing. Dammit, that would just make what he had to do later harder… If he had to do it. 

He walked into the infirmary, clearing his throat. “Hey, Doc?” 

“Ja?” A small voice squeaked, hesitant and frightened. Engineer felt his stomach flip, oh for the love of- 

A small child peeked out at the Engineer, hiding in the Doctor’s room. His black hair was messy and ruffled, his glasses way too big for his face and a blue eyes glistening in fear. 

“Oh no, Doc, you too?” 

The boy let out a confused sound, ducking back behind the corner and into the room. Engie set the sleeping Demoboy onto the examination table, slowly walking over to the room and crouching down.   
“Hey” he cooed, trying to sound reassuring, “come on out buddy.” 

“Typ, keine Weise, ich habe keine Ahnung, ho oder was du bist!” the boy muttered, voice muffled from wherever he was hiding. Engie frowned, dear god, the kid could only speak German? He chewed his lip, trying to think of a way to draw the kid out. He had to keep tabs on this one, something about his shy demeanor was giving the Engineer some major red flags. 

“I… Uh… I need a Doctor?” 

The boy peeked out, eyebrows furrowed, “Warum?” His tone was demanding, and Engineer felt himself flinch. So the guy had always been intimidating… 

He motioned towards his injury, and tried again.   
“C’mon Doc, look at my hand, you can fix it… Right?” 

“Oh! Du bist ein Patient?” 

Engineer nodded, hoping to god he was interpreting this right. The boy scurried out, the Medic’s large coat wrapped around his body and trailing behind him. Engie stifled a chuckle, trying to appear serious. The kid seemed to know what he was doing, going as far as grabbing the engineer and forcefully dragging him over to the examination table. When he saw Demo however, he frowned, motioning at him violently. 

“Was zum Teufel macht dieser Kerl? Steigen Sie von meinem Tisch, Blödmann!”

Engie grabbed the sleeping child, picking him up and out of the furious Medic’s reach. The smaller boy seemed put off by the other, and had started ranting as he walked around the room, grabbing materials he needed as he went. Engie was surprised the boy could get some of the stuff he did, watching with worry as the small child climbed up and onto counters to grab some gauze. Setting Demo on the floor, he walked over to the angry Medic. 

“Need some help Doc?” 

“Nein!” 

“Okay okay! I was just offering…” 

Medic huffed, grabbing the Engineer once more and dragging him over to the table. Engineer knew he could pull away, but the Medic seemed put off by any shows of resistance, so he let the child pull at his shirt violently. 

“Lass mich sehen…” he sighed, motioning to the older man’s hand. Engineer gave it to him, hesitant and wary. He didn’t know if the boy actually knew how to do any of this stuff, and hoped to god he wasn’t in for an unexpected surgery. But his worry quickly subsided, replaced with wonder and pain as the Medic quickly worked on the wound, throwing the bloody fork aside and applying disinfectant. The gash was efficiently wrapped, and Engineer swore this was the quickest Medic had ever worked. Medic smiled, wiping his hands off on his coat and grinning broadly. 

“Ich habe es gemacht!” He giggled, eyes crinkling up in amusement. Engie smiled as well, although he didn’t know why the boy was happy. Standing up, he nodded at the small doctor. 

“Thanks Doc.”

The Medic frowned, worry flitting through his eyes. Hesitantly, he raised his arms, opening and closing his hands in a silent show of want. Engineer chuckled, shaking his head in disbelief. Picking up the Medic, he hoisted him in one arm, cradling him gently as he reached down to grab the other sleeping boy. Lifting Sentries and dispensers all day certainly wore him out, but it also helped him grow that needed arm muscle, and he found that he could carry both children with ease. 

He had to get to the respawn room to see if he could fix the little mishap, but now as he wandered through the halls, he realized something. He had battled today, sure, but he hadn’t gone through respawn once. He knew for a fact everyone had died at least once, having waved to them as they passed each time. So if respawn was acting up, and these three had already changed… He wasn’t sure if he was ready to deal with a whole team of sleepy, grumpy, angry little monsters. The three he had met were enough. But if they were changing, he should probably round them up, it’d be horrible if any of them got hurt... 

He changed course, jogging with the two boys towards the den. He could round the children up there, and then judge the severity of the situation. But at the same time, he was worried the little Spy would hurt someone else if he left them alone… He’d have to find and control that child.   
But how do you find a kid with an invisibility watch?


	11. Kid!RED Team: Part Two.

As he neared the den, he could hear sobbing, and he quickened his pace, practically stumbling into the room. Medic let out a little whine of disapproval, smacking Engineer’s arm lightly. Engineer sighed, choosing to ignore the Medic’s reaction. Demo was still hanging limply in his arms, soft snoring emanating from him. He glanced around the room, the sobs growing into barely noticeable sniffles, and then dwindling off to nothing. Had the child left? He doubted it, there was only one way in, and he had been blocking it off. 

“Hello?”

“Hallo?” Medic echoed, concern flitting across his features in an uncharacteristic way. Engie set him down, slowly walking over to the couch and laying Demo across the plush cushions. He didn’t want to startle or scare off whatever child had found his way into here, all of the mercenaries actions and responses suddenly a little less predictable. But he didn’t want to lose this one either… 

Medic was walking around the room, crouching and looking under and around things for the other child. Engie smiled, watching the little one work. God, why couldn’t Medic be this careful and caring as an adult? What had happened to these children? 

Small arms wrapped around his leg, and he resisted the urge to fling his leg out. Instead, he stiffened, glancing down at the small bundle of warmth attached to him. 

 

A small gas mask peered up at him, head tilted to the side in confusion. 

“Aw, Firebug!” He cried, reaching down to pick the small child up. The child happily accepted the embrace, and Engie smiled, glad that his little Firefly hadn’t changed. The small child sniffled though, and Engie realised he had been the one crying, his gas mask muffling the sound. He gently patted his back, and tried to comfort the little one. Being alone had always been a thing for Pyro, even he knew that, and he shamed himself for not thinking about him sooner. He must have been terrified, this small being in a giant base, all alone without anyone to hold him… Pyro shook, and he tightened his grip. 

“Pyro! Pyro!” Medic chirped, reaching up for the other child. Engie set Pyro down, watching with fascination as Medic hugged Pyro close, comforting him quietly. Pyro mumbled something, and Medic just nodded solemnly, humming in response. 

Engie nodded to himself, turning to leave. The children in this room were under Medic’s care, and Medic was a good influence. Even in this state. 

He had to find the others, but he was starting to run out of energy. Gosh he was tired, chasing and caring for kids was a lot of work. 

 

Maybe he could drop by the kitchen, grab some coffee or something to get himself going again. Medic could watch after Pyro and Demo for a bit, right? Right, he was a small man in a child’s body, he’d be fine. As he made his way towards the kitchen though, the smell of coffee wafted through the halls, and he tried to remember if he’d already put some on. He didn’t recall- 

“Hey” a small voice mumbled, and Engie snapped his gaze up, eyes landing on the boy who sat on the counter. He was cradling a cup of joe in his hands, #1 SNIPER Scrawled across the side. Engie sighed, running his hands over his face. 

“Want some coffee?” Sniper offered, voice uncharacteristically high. Engie nodded, walking over and gratefully accepting a mug from the small Australian. They both sat in silence, enjoying their separate cups of brew. Engie briefly wondered if he should be letting the kid drink this stuff, but he figured the guy knew what he was doing. He seemed a bit more put together then the other boys. 

“So” Sniper began, placing his cup down.   
“How the hell did this happen?”

Engie sighed, shrugging, “respawn glitch?” 

Sniper nodded, accepting the answer without any questions or doubts. Engie was grateful, he didn’t feel like explaining anything right now, especially since he barely knew himself. At least Sniper hadn’t changed too much, and Engineer found himself eyeing the kid occasionally, waiting for a sudden and spastic personality flip. 

Sniper yawned, covering his mouth with a hand and smacking his lips.   
Nope, still the same old Sniper. 

“Hey Stretch, have you seen any of the other guys while walking around?” 

Sniper shrugged, chewing his lip as he thought. Engie admired the fact Sniper seemed to be so… Reliable, in a sense. He always stayed true to himself, and never hesitated to voice his opinion. When asked, that is. Now, Sniper was trying to help the man he barely knew, and Engineer swore he’d talk to the man more after this. It was the least he could do. 

“Yeah, now that I think about it” Sniper drawled, his high voice giving his normal nonchalant manner of speaking a worried air. Engineer nodded, listening intently. 

“Yeah… Scoot ran down the hall screamin’ his bloody head off. Something about Spies and knives?”

Engineer stiffened.   
“See where he ran off to?”

Sniper nodded, “his room, last time I saw him.”

He sighed, setting his cup down and stretching. Okay, now he knew where to head next…   
“Hey stretch, mind hanging out in the Den until I get this mess sorted out?” 

Sniper nodded, setting his own cup down and hopping off the counter. As they parted ways, Engie gave him a friendly wave, smiling softly. 

Time to fetch the next Bugger.


	12. Kid!RED Team: Part Three.

“P-P-Please don’t let him get me!” Scout sobbed, arms wrapped around Engineers neck in a choke hold. Engie gagged, patting the small boy reassuringly on the back. The dark blonde boy had jumped into his arms the moment he knocked, shaking like a leaf in November and stuttering like Roger Rabbit. Engie never knew the kid had a speech impediment, but standing with him here now, it was blatantly obvious. Maybe he outgrew it at some point, or it only popped up when he was really emotional about something, who knew? Right now, the kid needed his support, and he tried to comfort the child to the best of his ability. 

“Don’t worry Scoot, I’ve gotcha, ain’t no Spy gonna getcha…”

“You p-p-promise?” Scout sniffed, body stiff. Engineer nodded, humming in affirmation.   
“Of course.”  
Scout relaxed, body going limp as Engie cradled him. Really, the kid was so light the older man worried an updraft would blow him away, but he knew that was unreasonable, and he chuckled weakly instead. Scout started mumbling stuff about things he went through, but Engie noted how the conversation was half hearted, like the kid didn’t really care about talking. He probably just wanted the company aspect. 

That was fine. 

Engineer adjusted his grip, humming ever so often to encourage the kid. 

How many of the guys did he have now? Demo, Scout, Pyro, Medic, Sniper… Just a couple more? Right? The Spy was definitely going to be an issue, and it was getting late. In fact, he was sure it was close to nine already… At least it was Friday, they wouldn’t have to battle tomorrow. He’d get the kids he found tucked up and in bed tonight, and he could resume his search later. Unless Spy tried to get them in their sleep. 

Dammit. 

He went through some possibilities in his head, barely acknowledging the fact that Scout had long since fallen asleep in his arms. Maybe they could share a room for the night, then he could keep watch. Yeah, that’d work. Then he could keep an eye on the children as well. 

Yup, that’d definitely work. 

When he got to the den, he explained the situation to Sniper and Medic, both nodding in understanding and helping him escort the rest of the children to bed. How comical it must have looked, Engineer walking down the hall with four to five children following after him. A mama duck and her proud little array of ducklings. He shrugged the mental image away, focusing on the task at hand. The children were his first priority, and he felt a twinge of worry when he realised there’d be a child out there with Spy… Alone… At night. Crap, Soldier… 

“Alright Doc, I’m going out one last time. Please help Sniper watch the others alright?” 

“Wird besorgt!” 

“Thanks Doc.” 

He never knew it’d be so hard to find the Soldier, and he found himself wandering in circles for hours, calling out for the man to respond. He had tried nicknames, actual names, and insulting names, all to no avail, and he felt his gut twist again. Maybe Spy had already gotten to him… Maybe he was too late. 

“Solly!” He couldn’t give up yet, it’d be wrong to abandon all hope. What if he was still out there? 

Muffled sounds reached his ears, and he slowed down, listening intently.   
There, soft thumping on a wall? He glanced around the hall, trying to find the source of the noise. There weren’t any doors around, and as far as he was concerned, no rooms either. So how? 

The solid knocking was on his left, and he glanced over, staring at the wall in disbelief.   
No way. 

“Solly?”

The knocking grew frantic, and he walked up to it, placing his ear against it hesitantly. He jumped, the knocking right next to his ear, “help! I fell in and I can’t get out!” 

“Solly, how the hell did you fall into a wall?” 

Soldier hiccuped, and Engineer felt his heart twist.   
“I-I was crawling through the vents, and I saw a gap, but when I touched it, it broke! And I fell and it hurt and I can’t breathe- Please help me! Engie please!” 

Soldier was practically in tears, his breath raspy and strained. Engineer felt himself start to panic, and he tried to steel his nerves.   
“Okay, okay! Watch out!” 

He unhooked his wrench, kissing the cold metal softly before winding up to hit the wall. He had moved over foot so he wouldn’t hit the child, but he hesitated before swinging. What if he couldn’t get him out?

The cold metal hit the wall, wood flying as the wall broke a little. He repeated the action relentlessly, sweat dribbling down his face as he cut through the wooden planks. The majority of the walls had soft, pink, fluffy insulation keeping the heat inside the base, and Engineer could only imagine trying to breath around the stuff. His actions grew a bit more desperate, and eventually, some of the pink fluff was visible. He didn't hesitate, reaching in to fish around the stuff, trying to find the small child he knew was in there. He hand brushed against something, and he grabbed onto it, pulling out the child in hand. Soldier emerged covered in pink dust and wheezing, eyes red and watering. Engie knew the stuff was dangerous, but this? He picked up Soldier, running down the hall and towards the infirmary. He needed the Medi-gun, he knew how to work that, and this wasn’t a physical wound that could wait until later. 

Solly would be fine, he’d be fine. 

Said child was mumbling something about being tired, and Engineer shook him softly, encouraging him to stay awake. “Don’t go to sleep yet buddy, let's fix you up first…”

He felt like he had barely made it in time. He trained the large device on the small being, turning it to a low setting. He didn’t want the kid to overdose, not after all of that. Soldier soon relaxed, body going limp from strain. His eyes drifted shut, and his wheezy gasps turned into soft shallow breathing. 

 

As soon as he was sure the kid was good, he’d take him back.   
He had to make sure. 

He rested his elbows on the edge of the examination table, humming quietly to himself as he watched the machine work, The kid would be fine. He’d be okay.


	13. Kid!RED Team: Part Four.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, these last two updates will be reasonably short. But, at the same time, I'm trying to finish this up for my AO3 reader's so y'all can get the other short fics I have posted on Tumblr. Hope you guys enjoy!

Medic scolded him as he carried Soldier into the room, pointing at the bed and insisting that the Solder be set down. Engie obliged, letting the doctor take over. He was so tired, he just- He wanted to pass out standing up. He walked over to the door, leaning against it and sliding down to the floor, exhaustion finally taking a hold of his worn body. 

He had everyone he needed in one room, he could sleep now… It’d be fine. As he let his eyes drift shut, he felt a small body curl up against his side, and he cracked an eye open, watching Pyro hug onto him.   
He placed a hand on the other’s back, rubbing small circles into it in a small attempt to comfort the other. 

As time passed, the other’s soon drifted over as well, laying on and around the older man as he tried to catch some shut eye. Sniper leaned against his side, his oversized hat covering his eyes and nose, his mouth hanging open slightly as he snored. Scout had curled up next to Engie and Sniper, squeezing himself between the two and gripping onto Engie’s arm, hugging it tightly. Medic had finally wandered over, laying across Engie’s stomach and humming contently as he slept, obviously comfortable. Soldier was still recovering in bed, but eventually he got up and laid down next to Engie, using his leg as a pillow of sorts. Demoman was laying next to Soldier, hugging him in his sleep, grumbling occasionally. Engie found himself dozing off as well, the mixed array of snoring strangely comforting. As his eyes drifted shut, however, he heard soft knocking on the door. His eyes snapped open, and he shifted forward, trying to grant access to the knocker. 

“Hello?” he whispered, voice barely above a breath.   
“Привет?”

Oh crap. 

“Heavy?”

The large boy nodded, expression semi-guarded. Engineer couldn’t believe he’d forgotten about the russian man, and guilt wormed it’s way into his heart. He nodded, motioning for the other to slip in so he could lean against the door once more. Heavy did, helping Engie adjust so he could be comfortable.

Engie let out a strained chuckle, the sound weak and high pitched, ridden with the emotion he was feeling. 

Heavy just ignored him, moving over to the Medic instead. He laid down against Engies side, head lolling over as he got comfortable. Engie knew he messed up. He had been so concerned about the other children, he had forgotten about one of them. He was horrible. Clearing his throat he tried to get the boys attention. Nothing. The Heavy had never really liked him anyway… But now any chance at friendship was being swiftly destroyed. 

Because he forgot. 

“I’m sorry” he whispered, the words carrying over the snoring of the sleeping children. Heavy didn’t respond, and Engie nodded to himself, almost expecting it. 

How could he forget?


	14. Kid!RED Team: Part Five.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's short, but I'm going to post three to four new stories after this, so keep an eye out.

He woke up with the Spy nestled next to him, face slack as he snored softly.   
An Adult Spy snuggled up next to him. 

Engie froze, glancing around. 

All of the boys were… Well, men again. It’s seems like whatever weird Respawn thing had happened wore off with time, and now he had a bunch of giant adults laying on him. He couldn’t feel half of his limbs, and he was pretty sure someone was drooling.  
He frowned, disgusted and in desperate need of a shower. He was about to start yelling at the men to ‘get off,’ but glancing over at Demoman, he still saw Demoboy, the same childlike features still evident in his adult face. His heart constricted, and he smiled a small, weak smile. Even if they weren’t kids anymore, they were still his boys. Right? 

He leaned back, closing his eyes again. The smile never fading.


	15. Late night mumbles... ((Heavy, Scout, Pyro))

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A request from Longtail2.

Soft crackling, followed by the occasional pop, filled the heavy silence that hung around the men. None of them spoke, opting to enjoy the warmth of the flames, each lost in their own little worlds. One, the Pyro, sat especially close to the fire. They poked it with a long stick, encouraging the flames to leap higher with each and every movement. Heavy briefly wondered if he should let the pyromaniac mess with the open flame, but he let it slide. This was suppose to be a fun trip, why ruin it with senseless pestering? It wouldn’t hurt to let the childlike being play around for a bit, especially if it kept them occupied. He glanced at the man next to him when soft shuffling caught his attention, watching as Scout leaned back, laying on the hard ground and staring up above. His arms were crossed behind his head, crystal blue eyes locked on the sky. They were filled with a mixture of emotions, ranging from grief to wonder, and the large Russian noted that you could see the star’s reflection in them. Leaning back as well, he hummed in appreciation when he noted what the younger man was staring at: the heavens, a dark void, speckled with an array of stars. Red, blue, yellow… All a different shade, yet all adding to the cosmic wonder one felt when looking up at them. He sighed, contempt.   
“Hey, Heavy?”

“Da?”

The boy hesitated, as if struggling to come to terms with himself.   
“Why are we here?” 

The question was whispered, barely noticeable above the rest of the noise that filled the air, but Heavy heard it nonetheless. He hummed, letting the depth of the query sink in like a man who tasted fine wine, let the brew roll over as he contemplated the flavours provided. Questions like that were not easily answered, let alone by the average man, the least he could do was try to ease the boy’s worries. 

“I do not know” he muttered. Scout sighed, unsatisfied.   
“But, I don’t think anyone could know. We are all here for different reasons, and it’s up to us to find out what our own reason is, yes?” 

Pyro hummed in agreement, abandoning the fire and walking over to the other two. Huffing, he sat down as well, leaning back to look up at the sky. 

“Well, how will we know when we find out?”

“That is up for you to know” Heavy grumbled, letting his eyes slide shut. 

“But what if we don’t know?” Scout demanded, traces of doubt lacing his voice. Heavy briefly wondered if the boy thought about things like this often, knowing that he himself debated questions like these on a daily basis. 

“Then maybe you’ve completed it when you were young, so you can continue living your life trying to accomplish something new.” 

“Yeah” Pyro sighed, his mask raised up a little, the plastic covering his eyes but leaving his nose and mouth free. His dark skin shone with sweat, lips dry from dehydration. Tongue darting out to wet them, a small smile working its way onto his face.“If you finish what you had to, then you can do what you want to.” 

“Oh” came the simple reply, and they laid there in silence, each left with his own thoughts. 

 

As the fire started dying down, Pyro’s soft snoring filled the air, and Heavy felt himself start to drift off as well. They had spent all day out together, hiking and fishing for their dinner. Just getting away from the chaos of it all had been relaxing enough, but now he was tired, the day’s adventure taking it’s toll on him. 

“Heavy?” Scout whispered, voice soft and hesitant, as if he wasn’t sure the larger man was still awake. 

“Yes Scout?”

“Thanks for taking us out man, I know you didn’t have to but… I had a lot of fun…”

Heavy smiled, chuckling, his voice deep and rumbling.   
“Of course.”


	16. Joining the Dork Side. ((Scout x Ms. Pauling))

He bit his lip, trying to calm himself down as he watched her enter the room. Her midnight black hair was pulled up into a bun, a few stray wisps blowing about as she went from merc to merc, handing out case files and information packets about their performance. He knew she’d get to him eventually, and his stomach twisted in anticipation as he waited. His foot tapped impatiently on the floor, the sound muffled by his rubber soles. He had been practicing… Well, no, not really practicing… More like talking to himself in a mirror, but it still counted! Spending time trying to perfect his lines, trying to look presentable, in anyway shape and form he could. He wanted to impress her, and he knew women like her were hard to woo. 

“Joey?” 

He jumped, raising his hands in surprise. Miss Pauling was standing in front of him, file in hand and an impatient look upon her face. She had been waiting. 

“O-Oh shit! Sorry Miss P!” He fumbled, grabbing at the paperwork with clumsy hands and a flushed face. Oh god, he probably looked like an idiot right now… 

Miss Pauling nodded, turning to leave. Most of the men had already filed out, Sniper and Engie lagging behind and talking quietly amongst themselves. Scout licked his lips tentatively, jumping to his feet and trailing after the woman. 

“H-hey! Miss Pauling! Can I ask you something?” 

She stopped, glancing over her shoulder. Her eyes were narrowed, a subtle sign that she wasn’t amused by the Scout’s advancements. Swallowing nervously, he grabbed his arm, rubbing small circles onto it with his thumb. ‘C’mon Scout… Say something!’ 

He gaped, her intimidating gaze throwing him off completely. He’d always been a fan of her eyes, they made her look mature, experienced… 

“Are you a tower? Because Eiffel for you!” He blurted, the words tumbling out. He stiffened, watching her reaction slowly soften. 

“What?”

“Y-You must be the square root of two, because I feel irrational around you?” He dwindled off, cheeks burning. Miss Pauling chuckled, shaking her head in disbelief. 

“Oh Joey, that’s adorable!” 

“A-adorable?” 

“Yeah” she giggled, readjusting her grip on the small clipboard she was holding. “I’m sorry Scout, but I just don’t feel that way about… Men.”

Scout deflated, nodding slowly. “Yeah, okay, sorry for bothering you…”

“Aw, no, it’s fine! Keep it up though, there has to be someone out there nerdy enough for your lines!” She patted him reassuringly on the shoulder, turning to leave with a small smile on her lips. Scout sighed, running a hand over his face before turning to leave as well. 

Engie chuckled, slapping a hand on Sniper’s shoulder. The man was trying not to burst, face red and a hand clamped over his mouth. 

“Don’t forget to breathe Slim.”

“Holy shit” Sniper gasped, shaking his head in disbelief.


	17. Trucks and Vans: Time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A request from my Shy Anon.

He sighed, staring down at the blueprints on his desk as if glaring at them would make them draw themselves. He had to make a new dispenser, one that would heal multiple men at once, but he couldn’t figure out what part he’d need to accomplish such a task. This wasn’t like him! He could do stuff like this in his sleep! So why was it so hard all of a sudden? He was an Engineer dammit, solving problems was his specialty… Maybe he was losing his touch. Maybe all those years of overworking himself finally caught up, and he was slowly going to become more of a burden than a benefit to the team. Would the rest of the guys want a useless, old, Engineer like him on the BLU team, when calling the Administrator would ensure they got a fresh guy straight off the boat? Probably not, and the realization hit him like a punch to the gut. He was expendable. 

Groaning, he leaned forward, resting his forehead on the table. He was in the dining room, one of his favorite places to work. The dingy blue chairs scattered about the room made him feel like he was home again, in a weird way. He had some younger siblings, and he missed them dearly, but the blue chairs were small enough to remind him of the chairs he made them when they complained about the giant ones their parents used. He missed them so much, and he couldn’t wait to retire and get back home to them. They’d have one hell of a time listening to his stories. What with Respawn and Mercenaries and the amazing inventions… They’d be so excited! Smiling, he sat up a little, glancing down at his papers again. But the last time he saw them was when he was shipped off, not seven to ten years ago. Damn, how time flies. It felt like just yesterday when he was a newbie jumping off the train… Now he was an older experienced man ready to get back on. A heavy feeling settled in his heart when he realized that his little siblings wouldn’t be so little anymore, most in their twenties and thirties now. He hadn’t talked to them in a while… Maybe he should write. 

“Hey Truckie, what are you working on?”

The gruff voice shook him from his thoughts, and he watched behind tinted goggled as the tall and lanky Australian collapsed in the chair beside his. He was cradling two cups of coffee, one being his iconic #1 SNIPER mug, and the other a light baby blue mug with a wrench painted on it. Engineer gratefully accepted the brew, nodding in thanks as he sipped it tentatively. 

“Just some blue prints” he sighed, motioning towards the semi-blank page. Sniper hummed, scooting closer to the smaller man and resting his forehead on the other’s shoulder. Engie rested his head on the other’s, enjoying the show of affection. Both men were secretive and emotionally stunted, in a way, but little moments like these reminded Engineer why he hadn’t quit yet. Why he stayed around at all. 

“Blue prints? There’s nothing on there Engie, and it’s getting late.”

“I know, I know” he sighed, cradling the mug close. 

“You should get to bed…” 

Engie hummed, not really listening. He had set his cup down, picking up his pencil to start another attempt. A hand wrapped around his own, and Engie trailed it to meet its owner’s eyes, the hazel browns swirling with worry. Although neither of the men were especially expressive, they didn’t have to be. The silence that usually passed between the two was laced with emotion, hidden meaning behind each and every longing murmur. Engie nodded, sighing as he started to pack up his supplies. Sniper helped, grabbing the stray paper here and there when Engie missed it. 

As they left the room together, Engie smiled, the expression worn and tired.   
He didn’t have to retire just yet, he had time.   
Time he’d hate to waste.


	18. Spy/Scout: Bonding Time.

“And that’s how you disable a sapper without injuring the machine. Now, if y’all look here at this contraption-”

“Engie! You said this would take a second!” Scout whined as he tossed his baseball in the air. He was leaning back in his chair, feet on the table and hat turned backwards. Engineer frowned, walking over and ripping the ball out of Scout’s hands, effectively causing him to topple forward in the process. 

Waving the ball in front of the boy, he scolded him gently. “No, Scout. I said it’d take a bit-”   
“It’s been an hour!” Scout countered, arms crossed. The other men around the room muttered, those who were still awake, that is. 

“I’d have to agree” Spy drawled, rolling his cigarette idly between his fingers. He was leaning against a wall, standing near the back of the room. Flicking ash onto the floor, he placed the roll back into his mouth. “You said this wouldn’t take long.”  
The shorter Texan sighed, running a hand over his face. 

“Listen boys, this is important. It could save a couple sentries later on, and knowing how to-”

“Question!”

“Yes Soldier?”

 

The two started squabbling, something about Dispensers, and Scout sighed in exasperation. Engineer had dragged them all into the Den, promising some food and iced tea, but all they had gotten was an hour long lecture about the parts of the Texan’s beloved guns.The other men tried to leave, only to discover that the Engineer was intent on keeping every unfortunate soul in the room until he was done. Bored, Scout started doodling on the paper Engie had provided, grumbling under his breath. He was tired, hungry, and twitchy; Why the hell was Engie being such an ass?

 

Glancing up at the Blackboard, Scout stuck his tongue out at the Sentry Engie had sketched out.

The chalk moved, and he blinked. Rubbing his eyes, he watched in disbelief as the small stub took off, hovering above the board for a second before making it’s own ‘adjustments’ to the original drawing. Scout stifled his laughter, slapping a hand over his mouth when he realised what was going on. 

The other men noted as well, and some of them chuckled, watching casually.   
“Okay Soldier?”

The man nodded vigorously, and Engie started to turn back to his board. 

“Hey, wait!” Scout shouted. 

He paused, “what Scout?” 

“I… Um,” he fumbled for a question, trying to buy the invisible prankster some more time. 

“What if you mixed a dispenser with a sentry? Wouldn’t that be the ultimate fighting machine?” 

Engie sighed, shaking his head.   
“That wouldn’t really work, the materials-”

“Why not?”

Engie frowned, “because-”

“What if you made a walking Sentry?”

“Let me answer your first ques-”

Scout smiled, the chalk adding a couple of finishing touches.   
“How much bonk should I drink so I can take down a Sentry?” 

“That’s physically impo-”

“Okay! Thanks Engie!” 

The man gaped, exasperated, before shaking his head and regaining his composure. Turning back to the board, he let out a small girlish shriek, the ball he had been holding dropping to the floor.

The Sentry on the board had been modified so that it had a very… Particular event going on with a well drawn Engineer. Engie shook, shoulders tensing and neck turning a vibrant shade of red as he stared at the drawing. The men chuckled again, but the laughter was short lived. 

“Get out!” Engineer growled, and then the men scrambled to leave the room, each stumbling over his own feet in haste. 

Scout chuckled, jogging down the hall towards his room. A shadowy figure decloaked ahead of him, he smirked, picking up his pace.   
“Hey Spy!”

The man stopped, glancing over cautiously at the young boy.   
“Oui?” 

“That was pretty funny! What you did back there? I mean, dang, I’ve never seen Engie so mad!” 

Spy chuckled, rolling his eyes and motioning for the Scout to follow. They walked down the hall together, joking about the event. 

When they got to Scout’s room, both the men paused, embarrassment seeping into the conversation. 

“So… Um…”  
Scout sighed, chuckling nervously as he rubbed his arm.   
“Think you could teach me to draw like that?”

Spy smiled, the expression strangely humble.  
“Of course.”

“Thanks Dad.”


	19. Scoutcest: This ain’t right, but it feels like it is.

He shivered, cold hands trailing down his sides as he struggled to get his shirt off. As soon as he was free, he leaned forward, desperation leaking into the situation as he hungrily crashed his lips against the other’s again. This wasn’t the plan, not originally, but somehow it always ended this way. Sure, it was fun at first , almost like a joke. He vividly remembered how it started, the event that lead to this catastrophic relationship- was it even that? He didn’t care, it didn’t really matter… 

They had been on the field, during one of the longer rounds, one that involved overtime, desperate moves, and desperate individuals. He had grabbed the RED’s intel, panting as he jogged through the tunnels that twisted and wound beneath the battleground. He was exhausted, body spasming from wear. Maybe he had pushed himself too hard, maybe he should have taken it easy for a bit at some point. Struggling through the knee high water, he resisted the urge to throw up, slowing down to a tired shuffle. God he- He just had to rest for a bit. He strapped the intel to his back, leaning heavily on his side against the wall in a vain attempt to regain some of his lost energy. 

That’s when he showed up.

They always had a competitive relationship, both constantly trying to outdo the other. When it came to actually getting the intel, the BLU Scout knew he was better. But what he lacked in that area, the RED made up for through his aggressive tactics, choosing to take an offensive approach to each battle. Said RED made a surprised noise in the back of his throat, stepping back when he saw the BLU. Unfortunately, he recognised the other, and a small smirk worked it’s way onto his face when he realized he wasn’t in any danger.   
“Slacking off, aren’t we?”

“Fuck off man” the BLU gasped, still trying to catch his breath. His legs felt like they’d give way at any moment, and he mentally tried to motivate himself to move. Straightening up, he started forward.   
“What the hell are you doing?” 

“I’m stealing your intel, dum-”

The RED shoved him into the wall, the briefcases sharp edge digging painfully into his back. He swung his fist, his hand connecting solidly with the other’s face, baring his teeth as he tried to push the other off. 

“What the hell m-!”   
Something connected with his gut, the force doubling him over. Gasping quietly, the BLU’s wheezy gasps filled the sewers as he tried to compose himself. A rough hand grabbed onto his shoulder, forcing him up and pushing him back against the wall. The RED glared down at him, blood trickling down his jaw as he huffed quietly. Scout chuckled, the sound weak and forced.   
True, although they held similar characteristics, the RED’s face was more defined, the strong jaw and furrowed brow giving him an intimidating air. The BLU refused to be scared into submission though, and he spat at the other, a small attempt the add insult to the injury. 

“You look like shit.”

 

“You should buy a better mirror if you think you look any better,” the RED huffed, shifting. Scout stiffened, fear briefly taking a hold of him when he realised how close the other was. Shuffling under the RED’s hold, he tried to find an escape route. 

“Hey man, you win. If you could just send me through re-” 

A hand gently cupped his face, tentative and warm. Scout’s breath hitched, and his tongue darted out to wet his lips. Was it hot in here? He squirmed, a nervous chuckle escaping his lips. 

“Look at me.” 

He glanced up, crystal blue eyes locking with dark hazel browns.   
The RED looked hesitant, if not determined. He gently trailed his hand along the other’s jaw line, gauging his reaction.   
Scout had been scared shitless. He didn’t know what to do, was the RED going to snap his neck or something? He whimpered, eyes squeezing shut as his mind debated all the ways the other could kill him. He wasn’t ready, he’d been kidding about dying, respawn was terrifying he-

He was kissing him? 

Soft lips pressed against his own, shy, scared, everything the BLU had learned not to expect from the other. Hands rested on his hips, and he tensed, trying to comprehend the situation. Why? What had he? What? 

He froze, a tongue gently running along his lower lip. 

Hell no. 

Pulling back, Scout roughly pushed the other away, watching the RED stumble back in shock. The other glanced up at him, rejection flickering in his eyes before quickly being replaced with anger.   
“Go to hell, BLU!” 

 

“What, me? You-”

He barely had time to recognize what was happening before the bullet ripped through his stomach, splattering the wall behind him with a vibrant shade of red. He collapsed, clutching at the wound and trying to breath in vain, the blood erupting from his mouth drowning him. As he glanced up at the other, he glared, accusation in his eyes. But the other wasn’t looking, his own gaze averted as he pointed the muzzle of his gun at the downed BLU’s head. 

Scout had stumbled out of respawn, face red.   
That damn RED! He was… He was just trying to throw him off! There was no way that guy- But he couldn't… Dammit! 

He ran his hands through his hair, puffing up his cheeks and sighing loudly, a small whine echoing throughout the room. 

“Hey Scoot, what’s-”

“I’m not gay!” The words tumbled out, and he flushed, pushing past the shocked Sniper as he ran out of the room.

He couldn’t forget about it, no matter how hard he tried. The soft, gentle touch, the warmth of the other against him… He groaned, running his hands over his face.   
Focus, just focus.  
He eyed the enemy base, gaze trailing over the RED’s as they filed out to prepare for battle. His eyes locked on the other Scout, and he licked his lips. What was wrong with him? Sighing, he averted his gaze. Their Soldier was trying to brief them, reminding them of their jobs and requirements they had to meet. Scout knew what his job was: grab the intel and bring it back. It wasn’t that hard, but the Soldier was a determined man, years of experience offering some valuable advice. Normally, Scout would be entranced, excited, and ready to go. But the thought of running into the other… 

“Get going Scout!” 

He jumped, running towards the field. Had he really missed the order to go? Shit, he really was out of it. Sidestepping away from the main ruckus, he attempted to get to the sewer system, a sure way to get to the intel with minimal damage. Well… His heart clenched, his normal speed slowing down as he approached the entrance. He told himself ‘I wouldn’t want to exhaust myself, like yesterday,’ but as he entered the tunnels he managed to slow to a hesitant gate. He stopped on the raised platform, glancing around, confused. Why was he stopping? He could have gotten the intel by now, or at least killed some-

“Fucking BLU…”

His heart jumped, and he turned, facing the other Scout. He looked disheveled, his hair mussed up and dark bags under his eyes. Scout chewed his lip, taking a step back. 

The RED lifted his scattergun, prepared to fire, but his finger hovered over the trigger. Why wasn’t he firing?

“Get out of here.” 

Scout felt his chest tighten, and he took a couple steps towards the shaking man. The RED growled, matching the BLU’s moves and prodding him with the nozzle of his gun. 

 

“Go away!” 

“No.”

The other faltered, deflating a little. He let his gun drop, and Scout took the chance and approach the other.   
He watched the RED avert his gaze, expression dejected and forlorn. Reaching forward, the BLU cupped the RED Scout’s cheek. He leaned into the touch, eyes fluttering close, “fuck” he sighed.   
“Fuck” Scout agreed, leaning forward. Their lips brushed together, and Scout felt his face heat up.   
The other Scout wasn’t as patient, his gun clattering on the floor as his hands shot up, tangling themselves in the other’s short hair. They pressed against each other, tentative wandering hands growing bold as they traced the edges of clothing, shuddering gasps filling the air as things heated up.   
“Victory” the voice drawled, and both the boys froze, panting softly.   
“Haha” the BLU gasped, eyes locking with the others. His stomach churned, and he tried to calm down. The RED’s face was flushed, a light sheen of sweat coating his features as he glanced down at the other. He averted his gaze, ashamed, and Scout felt his heart plummet. 

“We better get going…”   
“Yeah…” 

They hesitated, hands dropping after a minute. Scout felt like the moment had passed too fast, and he rubbed his arm self-consciously. 

 

“Well… Bye?” 

“Yeah... Bye.” 

They parted ways, neither saying anything as they returned to their respective teams.   
What had he done?


	20. Respawn Failure: BushMedicine

“This ain’t right Doc” he groaned, sliding along the wall as he fell to the ground. The Medic was booked, currently healing the Scout as the boy sobbed quietly, his body riddled with bullet holes and gashes. The German sighed, carefully running a hand along the Scout’s body as he placed the Medigun down, there was only so much it could do before it had to recharge. It didn’t do enough. Glancing over at the Sniper, Medic carefully took off his glasses, cleaning them with the edge of his sleeve as he observed the array of men laying around his office.   
“I know” he muttered, chewing his lip.   
“They shouldn’t be sending us out there, not with the bloody Respawn malfunctions we’ve been having! What if it shuts down Doc? What if we lose someone-”   
“Herr Sniper!’  
The Australian flinched, mouth snapping shut.   
“If you think for a second that I am not a’vare of everything you’ve just said, then you must take me for an idiot.” He snarled, stomping over toward the Demoman to rip the bottle of Scrumpy he had been nursing away. Waving it around, Sniper flinched away from the droplets of alcohol that landed near him. He raised an arm, almost as if that’d stem the Doctor’s rage.   
“I’ve been working day in and day out to keep Sie Kinder alive! I haven’t slept in days…” Medic growled, expression melting from rage into a mixture of disgust and exhaustion. Collapsing heavily into the chair by his examination table, he rubbed his eyes, as if edging himself to stay awake.   
True, Respawn had been malfunctioning lately, from delayed respawn times to… Setbacks. The men hadn’t noticed the severity of the situation until recently, but… They had reported it. Maybe some part of them hoped they’d be put on ceasefire, that they would be given a day or two to fix it. No, all they had received were instructions to continue fighting until the Administrator had time to address the problem. Engineer had tried to fix it himself, claiming that he had ‘made the damn machine, and could fix it himself’ whenever he wanted to. But between battles and long nights under the complex, trying to fix the ‘damn machine’- Engineer was done, he could barely form a coherent sentence, his mind completely gone from exhaustion.   
They’d lost their Engineer, they couldn’t lose the Doctor as well.   
The men had chosen to stay within eyesight of the Medic at all times, reporting back to his office immediately after each battle. There was always someone who got it worse than the others, tonight it was Scout. The boy had to be dragged in, his arms wrapped loosely around the Heavy’s neck in a vain attempt to support himself. He had been muttering something about how he didn’t want to die, his choked sobs forced through the blood that was dribbling out of his mouth. Everyone had thought he was done for.  
The Medigun had just enough charge left to patch up the majority of his wounds. There was only enough for one each night, which made relationships tense between the guys. They knew one day they’d have two men who would need the Medigun, and only one would get it… Who would it be then? Sniper pushed these thoughts aside, struggling to stand up so he could approach the Medic.   
“Sorry Nurse” he tried, resting his hand on the Medic’s shoulder and rubbing small circles into the Doctor’s tense muscles with his thumb. He had been unconsciously clutching his wound, and he cringed when he noted the bloody hand print he had left on the older man’s shoulder. Medic ignored it, sighing and standing up as well. Placing a hand on the Sniper’s shoulder, he nudged him towards the wall. “Go get some rest Herr Sniper, I’ll wake you when I’m ready to treat you.”   
“Nurse, I could help-”  
“Nein, I can do this, go get some sleep.”   
He couldn’t, and they both knew it. He wanted to press for the man to get some rest, to tell him he wasn’t a machine that could work forever, but the German’s cold dead gaze stopped the words from coming out. He licked his parched lips, averting his own gaze and nodding.   
“Whatever you say Doc.”  
Medic nodded, satisfied with his answer. As he turned to leave, Sniper couldn’t help but quickly reach out, grabbing onto the Medic’s shoulder once more to stop him.   
“Hey Nurse?”  
“What?”  
“Don’t end up like Engie” he whispered, worry tinging his voice.   
“I won’t, you know how much I can get done! You men need me, I need to be available at all times! I don’t need to slack off and attend to any of my own needs until Respawn is up and running again-”  
“Doc, you’re human just like the rest of us, you need to sleep!”   
“I- I can do this, you need me awake-” Medic tried, glancing away.   
“I don’t need a lifeless shell-”  
“Neither do I.”  
Sniper let his arm drop.   
He looked around, taking in the worn and tired expressions of the men. He glanced at the Scout’s body, noting how the Medigun left faint scars from the wounds. He wished it could do more, but seeing as he had never been healed with it, he assumed his lack of injury probably improved his team’s chances at survival.   
Walking back over to his spot in the corner, he collapsed onto the ground and placed his hat on his face to block out the majority of the room’s bright, florescent lights.   
He could hear the Medic shuffle about, cleaning his various utensils and checking on the men. He didn’t want him to die, neither wanted the other gone.   
~~~~~~  
As the night progressed, he flinched, startled by the warm body that settled beside his own. Lifting the edge of his hat up, he cautiously peeked over to see who it was. Medic was taking off his glasses, placing them aside so he wouldn’t accidentally break them in his sleep. His face looked worn, and his coat was ruffled by the lack of care. A twinge of concern and relief ran through him, and he hesitantly cleared his throat.   
“Thank you” he sighed, leaning over so his body was resting against the Doctors.   
Medic jumped, apparently taken off guard by the Sniper’s sudden reaction. The stoic Australian man usually wasn’t one for expressing how he felt, and the medic hadn’t known the man was even awake.   
The German hesitantly relaxed, sighing.   
“No, thank you” he hummed, closing his eyes. Sniper let a small smile tug at his lips, glad the Medic hadn’t pushed him away. The German was scared; Scared the other men would discover the two’s relationship, scared they would exile them as a result. He didn’t want to lose the men he cared for, he loved them all too much.   
But Sniper loved him too much to lose him.  
\-------  
“Of course you’d walk into that” he sneered, finger flicking over the trigger as he shot the RED Demoman between the eyes. They still had respawn, of course, why wouldn’t they? They also had a semi-sane Engineer and a well rested Doctor, but he wasn’t going to dwell on that.   
As he lined up for another shot, he was momentarily caught off guard, bright blue catching his attention as it zig zagged hazardously across the field. It was- No, they locked him away for some goddamn rest, how the hell?   
The BLU Engineer threw his Sentry on the ground, his actions smooth and flawless despite his recent mental breakdown. Maybe the man had gotten some sleep? But how did he get out?   
As the Sentry started mowing down men, he could hear some of his men let out half-assed cheers, edging the Engineer on as he got to work on a dispenser. This caught the team’s attention, and they started focusing on defending his nest, trying to provide the other some time to put together the device.   
Sniper felt his gut twinge and he let out a chuckle in disbelief. They had a way to patch themselves up now, they could finally get their Doctor some rest! Maybe things were finally starting to turn around- 

“Bonjour, mon petit homme sauvage” The Spy sighed, breath tickling the Sniper’s neck.   
“Spy! Don’t-”  
He couldn’t breath, he couldn’t feel anything besides the sharp pain in his back. A strangled cry ripped through his throat, and he spasmed as he tried vainly to remove the knife. His fingers grasped hopelessly at the cold, metal handle, the Spy’s cold gaze just as penetrating as the blade.   
“Ceasefire,” a voice hissed, the sound distorted from the old speakers and Sniper’s hazy mind.   
She continued to ramble, and Sniper swore he could hear an alarmed gasp. As arms wrapped around his torso, dragging him into a sitting position, he let his head roll to the side. He was fading, quickly, and he didn’t think he had enough in him to fight it off.   
The Spy was shouting, concern written over his features as he vainly attempted to drag the Sniper towards the door.   
Sniper on the other hand, couldn’t care less.


	21. Scout and the PyBro

“Bake a cake he said, it’d be fun he said…” Scout whined, wiping a powdery hand across his forehead in a vain attempt to mop up some of the sweat that trickled across his scalp. The action left a white streak across his face, the flour on his hands sticking to his skin. The room had to be at least two hundred degrees, maybe more. What kind of mumbling bastard could work in conditions like these? Well, since you asked… This one. Pyro was busying himself with the oven, leaning forward to place the cake pan onto one of the racks. Sure, it was nice that the guy wanted to teach Scout how to bake, but did they have to do it today? Scout swore he could practically feel the heat in the room settle onto his worn and tired body, and he rolled his shoulders in a vain attempt to get himself going. God he wanted to go back to his room, with it’s cool interior, darkened windows, and mini fridge full of bonk…   
A sharp sting on his forehead brought him out of his daydream, and he watched the Pyro tap his foot impatiently. The guy had flicked him across the forehead, and he rolled his eyes.   
“What do you want, Mumbles?” His tone could have been a bit softer, but he honestly couldn’t hold back the little, snarky undertone that slipped into his sentence.   
Pyro motioned for the Scout to go, and Scout felt his face twist into a large grin.   
“Really? We’re done?”   
‘So-so’ Pyro signed, tilting his head to the side.   
“What? What else do we have to do?”   
Pyro sighed through his mask, the sound wheezing and exasperated. Grabbing the Scout roughly by his hand, he dragged the boy out of the kitchen. Scout stumbled along, trying to figure out where the other guy was taking him. Were they going to play games? Maybe they’d go cool off with the hose… it wasn’t unusual for the Pyro to drag Scout off to weird places, and he couldn’t really say it bothered him. Most of the time, these little adventures ended up with something awesome to do! Other times, they ended up being grounded by the Medic…   
They slowed to a stop in front of Scout’s room, and the boy’s mouth formed a small ‘o’, realization slowly dawning upon him.   
Pyro motioned towards the door, and mumbled something through his mask. Scout couldn’t claim he understood everything the guy was saying, but he did get the jist of it.   
“Okay okay, let me get my key” he muttered, digging in his pocket with one hand as he approached the door. The cool waft of air that blew over him as the wooden barrier finally gave way felt like nothing he’d ever felt before. He leaned into it, blindly stumbling into the room and tripping over himself as he fell onto his bed. The cool sheets fluffed out, lulling him into a sense of security, and a small smile worked it’s way onto his face.   
The door clicked shut, and the sound of a suit unzipping could be heard.   
“We have to wait for the cake to cook” a voice muttered, deep and gravelly. The sound would be foreign for most, but for Scout, it became a welcomed sound. He nodded, sitting up and moving aside so his friend could join him on the cool bed.   
“How long is that going to take?”   
Pyro shrugged, his dark skin shimmering under what light managed to slip through the Scout’s tinted window. His hair, long thick dreadlocks which hung about his shoulders, framed his sharp face nicely. His eyes shined like brilliant emeralds, and they watched the other carefully, observing his every move with stunning intellect. He was larger than the Scout, that was true, but they both knew Pyro had nothing on his speed. Despite their differences, the two had formed a strong friendship, one that allowed the masked man to relax and let himself unwind in the other’s presence. Both leaned back, one dressed in his uniform, the other sporting a white tank top and some crimson red boxers.   
“Probably and hour, maybe forty five minutes.” He hummed, cracking a small smile.   
“So basically how long it takes for you to lose at Poker?” Scout chuckled, reaching over to grope at his nightstand. Pyro rolled his eyes, chuckling. “You wish, this time, I’m going to show you who the true winner is…”   
“Keep telling yourself that, buddy” the boy retorted, sitting back up with his deck of cards in hand.   
“ I will.”


	22. SniperScoutSpy: Apologies...

“It’s just… It’s hard to forgive someone, when they won’t let you forget” he muttered, the words barely audible over the steady stream of water rushing below him. Perhaps the subtle drips in the distance could be considered a small factor in the general chaos, but the boy didn’t care. He continued to sit on his perch, the raised pedestal in a secluded part of the sewer lines, his feet pulled up beneath him as he balanced on the balls of his feet.   
“I feel like they don’t understand me, like I’m a burden…” he growled, his voice rough and gravelly from sobbing. Wiping at the angry streaks that ran down his cheeks, he huffed, the sound almost a bitter chuckle.   
“I just wanted to help! I wasn’t trying to get in the way- I mean, it happened but… You get that it was an accident, right?”   
His eyes traveled down, locking with his reflections. The murky Scout below mirrored his actions perfectly, both looking for reassurance that wasn’t available. Looking for something they couldn’t find.   
“Of course you don’t” Scout whispered, the sound strained. Burying his face in his hands once more, he let a small hiccup escape his grasp. He didn’t care, it didn’t matter if he cried where no one could see him, right? 

 

“No it doesn’t matter, but unfortunately, I can see you quite well” a voice hummed.

 

Scout jumped, snapping around to face the imposter.   
Spy was leaning against the wall, a small frown twisting his features into something that almost resembled worry. The Scout dismissed that notion, that would be crazy, like the Spy’d ever care… The Spy.   
“O-Oh no man, you better not tell anyone about this! What the hell are you doing down here anyway? Aren’t you worried about getting your dollar store suit dirty?”   
The older man rolled his eyes, reaching into said suit for his disguise kit.   
“Don’t worry, I won’t tell,” he muttered, flipping the small metallic case open as he went for a cigarette. “As for getting my ‘Dollar store suit’ dirty, it can be washed. I’m here because I saw you run like a bastard on fire across the field towards the sewers. What the hell were you doing? The enemy base could have seen you! Them, or Soldier, and neither option would be pleasant.”   
To be honest, he had been concerned. After Scout had accidentally broken the Medic’s medigun last week, the boy had been a bit secluded, the doctor's harsh words obviously burning through him from within. Even he had to admit the boy had been foolish, trying to move the device to a safer location, but the Medic also had gone a bit off the edge…   
“Oh” the boy muttered, avoiding eye contact.   
“Oh? That’s all-” he sighed, reeling himself in. He didn’t come down here to fight with the kid, he was here to talk.   
“Oh” he mimicked.   
They waited around for a bit, the silence of the sewers soft and comforting, despite it’s dirty appearance. 

 

After a reasonable amount of time had passed, Spy tried again.   
“Scout, I-”   
“What the bloody hell are you doing down here?” Sniper grumbled, sloshing through the knee high water and towards the pair. Spy instinctively reached for his blade, taking a couple of quick steps back to avoid the dirty water.   
Scout had stiffened as well, offering the Sniper a half-hearted wave.   
“Uh, hey Snipes, we were just…” He chewed his lip, trying to explain the situation to the older man without sounding like a sap.   
“Don’t try to make up any excuses” the Australian huffed, stumbling onto the platform.   
“What?”   
“Scout, kid, we know you’ve been upset-”   
“Yo, woah, yeah right Snipes! Like I’d be upset-”   
Sniper frowned, casting Spy a confused glance, as if just realizing he was there.   
“Why is Spook down here?”   
Spy rolled his eyes, putting his blade away. “As if I need permission to be down here, bushman.”   
“Aw, don’t give me any of your shit Spook, I’m here to talk to Scout-”   
“What do you think I’m doing? I-”  
Scout groaned, covering his face. “What the hell guys? Can’t you two save it for the bedroom?”   
Both the older men frowned, shutting their mouths simultaneously. Clearing his throat, Spy tried again, choosing to ignore the scout’s little remark- Like he’d share a bed with that beast. “S-”  
“Here Scout” Sniper interrupted, earning a hot glare from the Frenchman. Spy swore he’d be nice, but if that filthy jarman couldn’t shut his mouth…   
Said Jarman walked over to the boy, hesitating for a second before leaning down to scoop him up in his arms. Scout immediately reacted, flinching and squirming to get out of the older man’s grasp. The Australian huffed, adjusting his grip and walking towards the nearby wall. Spy stared at the Sniper in shock, brow furrowing in rage as he watched the man sit down with the Scout in his arms.   
“What the hell man? Let me go!”  
“Naw Mate” Sniper huffed, chuckling nervously, “What you need is a bloody hug, you’ve got too much pent up frustration in that little body of yours-”   
“Like hell I do!”   
“Que se passe-t-il?” Spy hissed, motioning at the pair.   
Scout groaned, covering his face. It was obvious the older man wasn’t letting him go anytime soon, and the Spy looked ready to kill someone.  
“Sniper, let go of Scout right now!” Spy growled, pointing at the Australian.   
Sniper frowned, tightening his grip on the Scout. It was obvious he was uncomfortable with the situation, but he had good intentions, and that had to amount to something. Right?   
“Make me” he muttered.  
Spy puffed up, striding over to the man and reaching down to grab his arm.   
“You are disgusting! Get your filth hands off of the boy right now, or I swear I will end your life-”   
Sniper grabbed the Spy’s arm, pulling him into the hug as well. Spy stumbled forward, unwilling and surprised by the Sniper’s reaction. As he fell on top of the Scout, he let a small ‘oof’ out, the impact knocking the wind out of his lungs. Scout immediately started up again, complaining as the Sniper attempted to shift so everyone was situated.   
They sat there quietly, trying to make do with the situation.   
“So…” Sniper coughed, averting his gaze and chuckling under his breath. His arms were wrapped securely around the two, unsure and hesitant in every way.   
“Let me go-” Spy started, body completely stiff.   
“No way man, if I’m suffering, so are you” Scout retorted, grabbing onto the Spy’s sleeve. Sniper chuckled, Spy rolled his eyes.   
“So, now that we’re all here…” Sniper began, glancing around the room nervously.   
“Scout, I’m sorry” Spy sighed, chewing his lip. Scout rolled his eyes, the chuckle that escaped his lips strained and forced. “It’s fine man, you didn’t know I was carrying the medigun when you tripped me-”   
“You tripped him Spook?” The Australian looked outraged, ad Spy felt his arm shift up and towards his neck.   
“Non! Well, yes… But I didn’t mean any harm!”   
Scout nodded, backing up the Spy’s claim.   
“I tripped him the week before that Snipes, it was only fair-”   
The man laughed half-heartedly. “You two have some serious issues” Sniper sighed, shaking his head in disbelief. For a man who didn’t mind hugging two other men in a dirty, rotted sewer, he sure was contradicting himself. Scout huffed, a small smirk working it’s way onto his face. Gently punching the Sniper’s arm, he let a little retort slip out.   
“Hypocrite.”


	23. Demoman: Short Fuse…

He could feel his gaze tearing into his sprawled out figure, judging him for relapsing so quickly, so quietly, without much of a struggle… He had promised, even in his altered state, he could vaguely recall promising the shorter texan that he wouldn’t but- But it wasn’t something he could just quit cold turkey! He had years of alcoholism tucked away under his belt, and the shorter man didn’t seem to understand the severity of his case! Maybe he didn’t really understand it… There was obviously something wrong with him, especially if he could refer to his case as ‘severe’ and still not give a damn about it. He lolled his head to the side, attempting to make eye contact with the figure he knew he’d find there.   
He looked handsome as hell, all wrapped up in his plaid pajamas and what-not. Demo resisted the urge to get up, to stumble over and pull the angry man in for a kiss; God knew he was angry.   
He wanted to run his fingers through that short hair, twisting and turning them until they caught just right. He wanted to be close, when all the other wanted was for him to be as far away as possible. Crystal blue eyes, eyes that saw everything and nothing at the same time, regarded him solemnly. Demo suddenly felt very self conscious.   
Sighing, Engineer ran a hand through his disheveled hair, muttering something under his breath as he regarded the drunken sod laying before him.   
Demoman tentatively reached up as well, mirroring the Engineer's actions and running his own hands through his wet and semi-sticky hair. Pulling back in disgust, he frowned, looking at his palm as if it’d been bitten.   
“Demo…”   
The voice roused him from his observation, and he immediately looked up once more. God, he could be half dead and barely conscious, and he’d still rouse for that deep rumbling tone.   
Always.  
Engineer was walking towards him, bare feet soft and quiet on the wooden planks compared to the sound his boots made when he stomped around. Demo considered the fact that Engie always seemed to posses an authoritative air about him, but without that loud aspect, he seemed a bit timid.   
“How on Sam’s hill did you get out here?”  
Here? Demo hadn’t really taken the time to consider his surroundings… Yeah, they were outside alright. They had been stationed at Well recently, which provided several new and interesting places for the Mercs to find his sore and abused body the next morning. Once they discovered that he’d wandered over to the RED base, which earned the BLUs some choice words the next morning about keeping tabs on their men. Another time they had found him face down in the sewers, drowning in vomit and sewage.   
That’s when Engie put his foot down.   
He’d told Demo that he couldn’t keep living like this. It wasn’t healthy, and respawn could only fix so much… Swearing that if he found Demo out wasted again, he’d leave him to rot like the disgusting carcass he was.  
That had hurt.   
That was probably what led to his next drinking spout, he couldn’t remember at this point.   
But despite everything, here he was, helping the drunken man to his feet and back into the base. Demo assumed passing out in the middle of the bridge was better than some other options, but that was beside the point. Right now, all he could feel was pure unadulterated joy, joy that stemmed from the fact that he knew Engie still cared- Despite everything he was doing.   
Engie struggled under the Demoman’s weight, the other trying to alleviate his pains by straightening up and attempting to walk forward on his own. It worked, for a while, but soon Demo found himself using the wall more than anything, his feet barely shuffling him across the floor.   
“Demo…”   
He hummed, it was the least he could do to acknowledge the other.   
“You need to stop…”   
He nodded, “I know I do.”   
When Engie didn’t say anything, Demo glanced at the texan out of the corner of his eye, watching emotions flicker over the other’s features.   
Confusion.  
Rage.  
Guilt.  
Grief.  
Demo’s chest constricted, each emotion playing through himself just as harshly. He wanted to comfort the other, but even he knew he wasn’t in the best state of mind for that sort of thing. Instead, he chewed his lip, focusing on his goal at the end of the hall; His room.   
“I really wish I didn’t Demo.”  
The sentence was unexpected, and he casted the texan a confused glance.   
“Wish yee didn’ what?” His words, although slurred, still got his message across and he was proud of that. Usually he was an incoherent mess at this point, even Engie knew that.   
Said man sighed, running his hands through his hair once more.   
“I wish I didn’t care as much.”   
Demo felt his chest tighten and he tried to ask what the texan meant, opening his mouth, only to be promptly cut off.   
“I wish you’d remember these night. These nights where I drag my sorry ass out of bed and search the base for you, because I know sure as hell you won’t be in bed. Those damn nights where I’m sure I’ll find you dead, and my heart feels like every second is an eternity until I know you're okay. Those nights where we kiss, and you completely disregard me the next morning… Those night that I care so much about, because it’s the only time I get to spend with you.” 

 

Demo gawked, unsure and surprised. He’d- He kissed the Engineer? The man looked for him every night? But he was so sure he’d managed to make it back to his room on his own most of the time, unless- 

 

“Engie?” 

 

The man sighed, looking up to lock eyes with the other Mercenary.   
“How many times have we…”   
Engineer chuckled, the sound bitter and harsh.   
“If you can’t recollect none of them, then I suppose they shouldn’t count.”   
They walked in silence, the distance between them and his room growing steadily smaller.   
After some hesitation, he tried again.  
“I’m sorry” Demo whispered, trying to convey all of the heartfelt emotions he had towards the other.   
“I don't recollect you can apologize for this, especially since you’ll forget later on, but thank you anyway.”   
They stopped outside his door, and Demo fidgeted uselessly with the knob. Engineer seemed to sense his apprehension, and he gave the Demoman a light pat on the shoulder, offering a weak and worn smile.   
“I’ll stop for you” Demo blurted, the words unsure and wavering. Engineer shook his head, chuckling.   
“This is the third time you’ve said that Dem, try a different approach.”   
He didn’t know what to do or say, knowing the Engineer was right, he’d forget by daybreak.   
And it was all his fault.   
“Help me?” he whispered, and this caught the Engineer's attention.   
“What?”   
“Help me quit drinking, help me remember those nights…”   
Engie smiled, the expression guarded but welcoming.   
“I’ll try.”   
And Demo briefly wondered if he had already tried before.


	24. SniperSpy: Flawless...

Hesitant, soft fingers grazed over his neck, the exposed flesh tingling under the other’s touch. The camper, devoid of any heating elements for the poor man who lived there, had long since lost what semblance of warmth it had absorbed during the day. He would have enjoyed the cool air a bit more if he had a shirt on, or anything of the sort, but he wasn’t here for physical comfort…   
The hands rested on his shoulders, calloused thumbs rubbing small circles into his back. He groaned, the action forcing his tense muscles to relax.   
“How’s that then?” A voice muttered, the sound deep and rumbling. Sudden breath on his neck sent an involuntary shiver down his spine, and he forced himself to nod. Licking his lips, he let a shuddering sigh escape his grasp, eyes fluttering shut. The Australian, encouraged by the Spy’s relaxed demeanor, hummed in response.   
A nose nuzzled against his neck, Spy could feel the man place gentle pecks along his shoulder blade, the other using their position to his advantage. Normally, the Frenchman wouldn’t allow someone- Anyone really, to touch his back. Years of working for the Mercs had made that a sore spot for him. But, after another strategically placed kiss found it’s way onto his skin, he realised he’d make an exception for Sniper. Fingers trailed down his sides, and he hummed, mourning the loss of the comforting massage he had been receiving earlier. Sniper chuckled, the sound strained and unconscious.   
“Missin’ it already?”   
The hands returned, and Spy let out a little gasp as the man returned to assaulting his neck, nips and pecks littering his sensitive skin. Teeth grazed his jugular, and he felt the man bite at the edge of the fabric wrapped around his face, catching the smaller man’s mask in a playful bite. His mask.   
Leaning away, the Spy turned around to glare at the surprised Sniper behind him. Sniper knew he didn’t like it when he touched his mask, so he stood up, leaving the RED alone on his couch.   
“Aw, c’mon love, don’t be like that!” Sniper groaned, watching the Spy head to the other side of the small room. The Frenchman huffed, ignoring the Sniper’s pleas as he started throw his shirt back on, buttoning up the white garment.   
Warm arms wrapped around his waist, and the BLU’s mouth twitched into a small frown, yet he continued to ignore the taller man.   
“C’mon love, y’know I didn’t mean it… Honest.”   
“Mm” Spy huffed, fingers fumbling around the button he’d been trying to hook. Sniper’s hands wandered up, catching the Spy’s in his own and holding onto them, causing the white fabric to slip out of his fingers.   
“Let me help you relax” he hummed, placing a gentle peck on the other’s neck, careful to avoid the balaclava this time. He didn’t want to relent, God knew it’d just let the Sniper think he could get away with it later on, but the soft touch of the other and his haggard breathing in his ear left him feeling light-headed.   
“Tireur d'élite-” a nip, and Spy’s breath hitched. “S-Sniper...”   
“Hmm?” He didn’t seem intent on stopping anytime soon, and Spy’s stomach twisted.   
“S'il vous plaît, I-I don’t... Je ne pense pas que je peux…”   
Sniper grumbled something under his breath, mouthing the words against his skin as he slowly repeated them. Spy waited patiently for the man to decipher the message, the other’s fingers tracing slow circles on his skin while he thought. Sure, what Spy lacked in english the Sniper could make up for in french, but sometimes the older Australian had to take a second to decipher what the other had said.   
“Oh” he sighed, leaning away. The Frenchman, as suave as he could be in most situations, was at a lost for words.   
“Is it because of-” Sniper trailed off, trying not to bring up any harsh memories. Spy bit his lip, although he knew the Sniper couldn’t see his pained expression, he tried to hide it anyway.   
Sniper hummed, and Spy worried that he’d disappointed the other. Maybe he was letting him down like this, maybe Sniper would finally get tired of him, maybe-  
“Spook?”   
He hadn’t realised he’d been crying, but he hastily wiped away the bothersome tears, letting out a shaky breath. God, he was such a mess…   
“I-I’m sorry” he chuckled, the sound strained and forced between parched lips. He hadn't meant to be a bother…   
Sniper spun him around, gently cupping his cheek and raising his face so he could observe the other’s torn expression. Chocolate brown eyes swam with concern, his mouth tilted down into a thin-lipped frown. Spy let his eyes wander, taking in the rest of the Sniper’s appearance. Sure, he was shirtless, his worn jeans only adding to his rustic appearance, but that was something Spy found endearing about the other man. Said man tilted his chin back up, trying to keep his attention.   
“Don’t apologize mate, it isn’t your fault…”   
“I feel like it is, Je me sens inutile …”   
The Australian wrapped his arms around the small Frenchman, pulling him against his chest, holding him there and backing up towards the couch. Spy protested quietly, a small smile slowly spreading across his face. When his legs hit the back of the couch, he let himself fall, bringing the Spy down with him.   
“What was that? You feel useless? Pish love, the day you’re useless is the day Scout decides to stop running” he chuckled, his words carrying a small teasing undertone. Spy nodded, wiping his eyes once more. Sniper ran his thumb along the Spy’s mask, avoiding the edge of the frayed thing in a vain attempt to appease him. “God, you’re so bloody handsome” he hummed.  
“Please bushman, you flatter me.”  
“I only do ‘cause it’s true” he retorted, his voice husky.  
Spy rolled his eyes, leaning forward so he was flush against the Sniper’s front. Sure, he may break down, he may cry, he may doubt himself on a daily basis, but Sniper never did. He was their rock, and Spy wondered if this man didn’t exist in his life, whether or not he’d be drowning again…   
Rough hands resumed their earlier activities, rubbing his back while the Sniper whispered sweet nothings against his neck.   
He wasn’t flawless, but this man made him feel like he could be.


	25. SniperSpy: Maskless.

“Don’t you trust me?”  
He stared at the floor, observing the intricate swirls in the crimson carpet, eyes scanning the ground for an answer he couldn’t find. His lips were pulled into a thin line, locked tightly and unable to give the other the answer he wanted. Oh how he wanted to reply! To tell the Sniper that he did trust him, with his rugged looks and humble demeanor! But every time he tried to force himself to express how he felt, the words caught in his throat, dry and raspy, dying in confinement. Even now, seated on the edge of his couch across from the other, a deep river of guilt flowed through his veins. It’s strength enforced with every hesitant glance he cast.   
He flinched, a rough hand cupping his cheek and forcing him to lock eyes with the Australian.   
His eyes, oh his eyes… A deep hazel, like honey gold or vibrant flames, regarded him solemnly. They were searching, digging for a reason behind the other’s mask.   
He was looking for something the Spy himself couldn’t find.   
“Spy?”  
A cry for help, subtle in every way. It hung in the air, suffocating the frenchman, trying to draw that answer out of him like one would suck poison from a wound.   
He couldn’t speak.  
The request, so simple in every way, made his heart stop.   
Why couldn’t he oblige?  
Why was this so hard?   
A flash of anger? Betrayal? Maybe even pain flew across the Sniper’s features, twisting them for a brief second before he regained his composure. Straightening up, he averted his own gaze.   
“Okay” he whispered, licking his lips. He ran his hands, worn and weathered from years of use, over his equally worn jeans before standing up and turning away. He was mourning, the truth something he hadn’t been able to handle. He hadn’t expected the other to say ‘no,’ but Spy knew some part of Sniper had never expected a ‘yes’ either.   
“Sniper?”  
Nothing, his silhouette stood out against the darker background, the room dim and poorly lit.   
No… No he couldn’t lose him like this. Spy knew he had fucked up a lot of things in his life, but this wasn’t something- No, this wasn’t someone he could afford to lose.   
He loved him too much.   
Standing up as well, he hesitantly reached up, running his gloved fingers under the edge of his balaclava.   
“Sniper, look at me” he begged, voice wavering.   
Pulling off the thin cloth, he shivered, the room chillier than what he was used to. His skin, clammy from stress, felt that much colder. His hair, black with gray streaks, stuck up randomly despite his vain attempts to gel it down. Even now, he self consciously ran gloved fingers through his locks, the other hand holding onto the fabric tightly.   
Spy wouldn’t lie, he had been through a lot in his life. He had watched loved ones die, and he had watched loved ones turn against him in his moment of need. He had experienced grief and joy, freedom and captivity. But now, standing here in some dusty old van, hundreds of miles from home, he realised he felt… Scared.   
He had never felt so exposed in his life.   
“Sniper?”   
The Australian turned, hesitant, slow. It felt like he was dragging out every second, time clawing at his nerves as he waited patiently.   
The Australian looked surprised, and Spy felt his chest tighten in apprehension. Surprise melted into confusion, and confusion into pure and unadulterated joy.   
“Spy? What the bloody- Are you serious?”   
“Sniper I- I may not have the capability to express how I feel in words, as childish as that might sound, but it doesn’t mean I can’t show you physically… Right?”   
Their lips met, the Sniper’s excitement and passion overpowering him. Standing their for a second, he pulled away, a large grin on his face as he ran a thumb over the Spy’s cheek.   
“You’re the best thing that's ever happened to me” he muttered, and Spy swore he could feel the excitement the other was feeling roll off of him. Smiling bashfully, Spy chuckled, shaking his head.  
“Non, I think it’s the other way around.”


	26. Silly Scribbles (ScoutHeavy)

((For that adorable Anon!)) 

 

Everyone knew he wasn’t a huge fan of reading. It took too long, it required sitting down for extended periods of time, and it rarely stimulated his craving mind. He wanted more then some silly scribbles on a page, he yearned for action, for experiences that could never be replicated on a piece of paper. 

But he wasn’t like him. 

Heavy: large, intimidating, smart, someone who demanded respect from every individual he met… Was everything Scout wished he could be. This man, although fierce on the battlefield, also possessed an intellect Scout just couldn’t understand. At first, he had hated the other. It wasn’t fair! The Russian was obviously smart enough to become a professor at a college or some shit like that, but instead, he was wasting his time here with men who could barely read. Men who only had enough schoolin’ and a handful of tutors to get them by. Men who’d lived out on the streets, fighting to make ends meet every day. 

Men like Scout. 

Hatred transformed into confusion, and confusion into desire. It was a weird desire, to be honest. He wanted to improve himself so he could show Heavy up, so he could say something intellectual and leave the other floundering in the dust while he sauntered away like the badass he was.   
Or at least, that’s what he told himself.   
He also kind of wanted to sit there and talk to Heavy about, well, anything. He wanted the man to look at him with that same level of admiration that he directed towards the Medic. He wanted that attention. He basically craved it. He wanted to feel like his say was worth it’s weight in gold, and that every little drabble he spewed could end world hunger or some crap like that. 

And that’s why he was here. 

He’d spent weeks trying to sit through books about poetry and literature, reading each page carefully, studying how the lines transitioned from one to the next flawlessly. He wanted to recreate something like that, he wanted to impress the other.   
Staring down at the blank piece of paper, he bit his lip, eyebrows furrowing in frustration. 

So why was this so hard?

“Dammit Scout, get your act together” he sighed, dropping the pencil he had been chewing and running his wrapped palms over his face. The gauze’s rough texture was comforting, but it did little to ease his growing exasperation. Leaning back, he huffed as he dropped his hands away from his face.   
This was supposed to be simple, wasn’t it?   
“C’mon, focus” he whispered, the words barely a mumble as he stared gloomily at the paper situated in front of him. 

Easier said than done… 

He had been trying to write a proper poem for the last hour, words that he had erased and crossed out littering the page. Sure, writing a poem would have been easier if he knew what he was shooting for, but all he had was some vague advice from a pompous Frenchman and a developing headache.   
“What did Spy say again?” He mused, biting the end of his pencil once more as he leaned forward, resting his elbows on the tabletop. Something about speaking from the heart or some shit? Like hell if he was really listening… Actually, he had tried to listen, but the man could go on forever. 

Scout just couldn’t focus for that long. 

Spy talked almost as much as his Twelfth grade teacher, that one woman who had claimed he’d be flippin’ patties for the rest of his life.   
Twelfth grade hadn’t been fun.   
Crap, he was distracted again... Glaring down at the piece of paper, he cursed it for his misfortune, grabbing it and crumbling it up so he could throw it away.   
Raising his arm, he was about to huck it across the room when a flicker of determination ran through him, overlapping his abundance of frustration. Lips twitching into a frown, he lowered his arm, unfolding the paper and smoothing it out to the best of his ability. It was still crumpled up, but usable, so he picked up his pencil.  
==>  
Preparing for the battle the next day was tough, and he dragged himself out of bed at the last minute, only when a very peeved Soldier slammed on his door and screamed at him to get going. He had barely slept, anxiety and Bonk running him ragged. Maybe he shouldn’t do this, he could always chuck it in the trash before anyone noticed. Maybe he could even give it to Pyro so they could burn it.  
Or maybe he could stop being an ass and finish what he started. 

Sighing, he shoved it in his pocket. 

 

It was hard, approaching the Russian. Harder than it should have been, at the least. He kept finding little things to distract himself with, avoiding the larger man at all cost. He even took the longer way to Respawn, a vain last ditch attempt the avoid the task he had set out to do. Arriving in the dingy room set his nerves on fire, crystal blue eyes scanning the room for the man he so desperately wanted to see. Some part of him hoped the other was sick, or taking the day off, but another part just wanted to get this whole damn thing over with.   
There he was.

He was polishing off his gun, the metal torrents glistening under cool fluorescent lights. His large hands stroked the metal frame lovingly, and Scout felt a pang of jealousy run through him. There was that need again, that craving for the other’s attention. Determined to subdue these wants, he quickly approached the other, trying to give off a cool air as he meandered over to the busy man. 

“Heavy?”   
Oh god, his voice had squeaked, hadn't it? Averting his gaze, he started shuffling quietly, trying to work up enough nerve to continue.   
The Russian, sitting down on the worn and unsteady bench, glanced down at him with a quirked brow. Normally the Scout would be playfully trying to tackle him, or loudly smack talking the BLUs with someone else. This sudden personality flip was kind of worrisome, and Heavy felt a flicker of concern run through him.   
“Da?”

“Man, don’t take this wrong or anything- I mean, not that you could, could you? I guess you could, crap, maybe I shouldn’t give it to you. It’d be stupid to do something like that, right? Crap crap crap, now you probably think I’m doing something stupid-”

“Scout, you’re rambling” he chuckled, shaking his head. The boy was always doing this to himself. He’d start talking to someone, and if they were unresponsive he’d just keep going on about nothing in particular, a subtle attempt to keep the conversation alive. Heavy knew he was lonely, and he always pitied the little guy. But eventually pity turned into care, and care into longing. He wanted to talk to the boy, to help him express how he felt through means other than violence, but he could barely string a coherent sentence together himself. Holding a conversation with the other would take a lot of work, and with the kid’s fast pace and tendency to slur his words together... He frowned, deep azure eyes studying the smaller man. He’d hear the boy out, and God forbid he fail to at least try to engage in a stimulating conversation with the other. It wouldn’t be fair if he never gave Scout a chance. 

Scout felt his cheeks heat up, and he swallowed nervously under the intense gaze of the other. Sure, he had gone over this scenario a million times in his mind, but it was different in real life.   
He was a hell of a lot hotter in real life.   
Crap, that was gay. 

“Scout?”  
He jumped, he hadn’t realized he’d been spacing out. Stammering like an idiot, Scout reached into his pocket, fumbling for a second before grabbing the small piece of paper that resided within. Taking it out, he practically threw it at the Russian, trying to spit out a coherent sentence.   
“I- You- Take it please?”   
God, he probably looked like such an idiot… 

Grabbing the paper from the smaller man, Heavy carefully cradled the small page in his large hands, taking in it’s crinkled appearance and noting how worn it looked. He could see scribbled out words, the faint outlines of erased letters still lingering on the page. Unfolding it, he looked over the small canto, eyebrows furrowing in disbelief as he stared down the tiny letters in the middle of the page. 

-  
If I had some words that sounded kind of smart,  
Maybe you’d take them as some sort of art?  
Priceless, unique, and brand Spankin’ new,  
Rest easy knowin’ they were made just for you?  
I’d spend a million hours tryin’ to make ‘em just right.  
One thousand days, and a heartbreaking night.   
Take it or leave it, just know i’m all yours,  
I’ll wait for your answer on young love’s hopeful shores.   
-

“You don’t like it, huh? I mean, I don’t like it, so there’s literally no way you could-”  
“I love it.”  
“Yeah- Wait” he looked at the other, eyebrows shooting up in shock.  
“You what?”  
“I love it Scout, it is short and sweet, and I can tell you worked hard on it.”  
“Really?”  
“Really.”  
Scout grinned, clapping his hands together and jumping up and down. The action, as childish as it appeared, was just the Scout’s way of expressing how happy he felt. Words couldn’t describe the pride and joy that ran through him, and the Heavy’s compliment only contributed to his turbulent emotions.   
“No way, man I thought it sucked! I mean, not just any sort of suck, like some major Spy suck-”   
Heavy chuckled, shaking his head and tucking the poem into his pocket for safekeeping.   
After all, it was his art.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't worry about your request y'all, I'm starting to kick that list in the behind!


	27. No one can Deny… ((SpyxSpy))

He was beautiful. No one could deny that. 

It wasn’t fair. No one should be forced to live with the knowledge that something so magnificent and otherworldly existed just beyond their reach, the being tempting him in ways even he couldn’t understand. He longed to hold the man’s piercing gaze with his own, to look into and explore the depths of the crystal blue animosity they produced. He wanted to taste him, to feel those soft, supple lips against his own, to experience the smoky onslaught they’d provide first hand. He wanted to touch him, to tease the skin he’d only seen glimpses of, to caress the other lovingly and produce the holiest of noises from the man.   
He wanted him, desperately.   
But he was always out of reach.   
Why couldn’t he have him? All he wanted was to be with him, to know what it felt like to be loved by such a magnificent being. Who could deny him such a simple request?  
Determined, he set out to court the other, anonymously for the sake of protection should the other reject him. Bundles of crimson roses would appear on the BLU Spy’s doorstep, faint traces of his own cologne and the smell of smoke wafting lazily in the air in his wake. Week after week he would deliver, never failing to cloak nearby and await the other’s reaction. The BLU would stare at the bouquet, confusion flitting across his features before he hesitantly stooped to pick them up. Cradling them in his arms, he’d take them into his quarters, and the RED would be left with a small smile gracing his features. When the RED noted these were being carelessly discarded, he quickly masked the surprise and despair he felt, trying a different approach by sending chocolates and letters filled to the brim with words of affection instead.   
These were also thrown away.   
It hurt seeing the words he had painstakingly written for the other discarded with common filth, but he was determined to woo the Saint. He tried toys, pets, artwork, anything that represented his ideals of romance, but they were all thrown or given away.   
The other tortured him, unwittingly so, and it drove the RED mad.  
Innocent daydreams of love wandered into darker territories, driven by his insatiable lust and turbulent emotions.   
Why wouldn’t he accept his tokens of affection? Was he not good enough for the masked rouge? He himself, like the his BLU counterpart, held their profession close to heart, so they had to relate on some level, right? Maybe he should reveal himself, let the other know of his desperate and unyielding love. Maybe then the other would accept him? Yes, of course! That had to be the solution!  
But it wasn’t.   
The BLU had laughed, sending him through respawn with a bullet through his head, his ridicule echoing in the RED’s mind as he was unwillingly brought back to life. Scorned and rejected by his obsession, he left the battlefield with a heavy heart.   
He didn’t love him.   
It was his team’s fault, it had to be! If they weren’t on opposing teams, the BLU would share his affection! Perhaps the colors clouded his love’s vision? He had to help him see the truth, he had to persuade the other…   
And he did.   
Well, not… Exactly. He was still working on it, but the BLU didn’t require a gag anymore, so progress was being made. Slumped over and bound to the plush chair, the BLU Spy still held an elegant air about him, his maskless face slack and relaxed. There were bruises across his features, each injury a result of his own struggling. The RED Spy tried to treat him like a God, but the BLU always made it so complicated.   
He hadn’t been happy about it, oh he had been quite peeved at the RED Spy, but the RED couldn’t care less.   
He had his prize.   
Slipping off his glove, God forbid he deprive himself from feeling every single inch of the man with his own hands, he traced the other’s jaw line, admiring the slight stubble that had started to grow there.   
The other stirred, his beautiful eyes slowly opening and locking on the man before him. Even beaten, broken, and desperate for release, this man was beautiful.  
No one could deny that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp, here's that request I got five years ago! But seriously, sorry guys, school's been kicking my arse and what-not. Any-who, here's that Spycest thing people wanted, along with some "Freakin' love me or I swear to God" stuff haha! Hope y'all enjoy!


	28. I don’t need you… ((Scout/Spy Father Son Relationship))

Gloved finger’s tapped on the edge of the glass anxiously, wearing away at the polished surface. Too long, he was taking too long to respond. There wasn’t a lot that made the Spy nervous, but this- This would wear away at any man’s nerves. Seconds, seconds melting into minutes, minutes trickling by without any purpose.   
Waiting.   
Why did he look so shocked? Was it really that hard to believe? Had he delivered the news incorrectly? Could you even do that? There he was, standing there with that shocked expression, processing everything at an agonizingly slow rate. Would he ever come to? After some time, the Bostonian licked his lips, encouraging Spy to lean forward so he could hear the weak chuckle that escaped Scout’s grasp.   
“Listen here fucker, I’ve made it this far without a Dad, you can’t just step back into my life now.”   
Smoke, curling through the air in a never ending haze, suffocated him. He couldn’t breathe. Words that should have come easily, phrases of adoration that could change his life in a matter of minutes, wouldn’t come. He’d thought the boy would be ecstatic, that the Scout would- God, what a fool. Why would he? Spy had practically dragged Scout into his smoking room, excited to share the news with the- No, his son. He hadn’t believed it at first, sure that the documentations he had found were wrong. But extensive research and a couple of bottles of wine later had the Spy totally convinced.   
The smoke, that godawful smoke was killing him.   
“Scout, listen to yourself, I’m trying to be civil-”  
No, no that wasn’t right. Those words should have soothed the other’s anger, but Spy could see flickers of rage flutter across the Bostonians expression, the dark room exaggerating his features. Those blue eyes that reminded him of his own mother’s were dark, a swirling storm of hate. That nose, buttoned like that quirky Bostonian’s Mom, scrunched up, freckles splattered across those high cheek bones that reminded the Spy of his own.That cheery expression he had come to love had twisted into something unholy.   
“Civil? What’s civil about leavin’ your kid? What’s civil about letting your ‘son’ grow up without a father?”   
Nothing, nothing was civil about it. Guilt ran through his veins, the feeling relentless.   
“I had business to attend to…”   
Lies, excuses, blasphemy.   
“Business that took you twenty three years to do?”   
He was too smart, he saw right through it. Then again, anyone would. To be honest, Spy had been scared. He wouldn’t admit it, not to anyone, but the thought of having a child had brought back painful memories of his own childhood. Maybe some part of his twisted mind thought that if he wasn’t there, he couldn’t mess up. What a joke.   
“I’m sorry-”  
A wine bottle flew at his head, missing him by mere inches. The sound of glass shattering against the wall behind him forced an involuntary groan out from between his clenched teeth, wet glass crunching under his polished shoes as he retreated with his hands raised. Scout advanced, pointing an accusatory finger at Spy’s chest, eyes watering despite his not-so-subtle attempts to hold himself together.“Sorry? You think saying sorry is gonna fix it? I spent the majority of my life tryin’ to cover for ya! I spent years tryin’ to explain that my Dad couldn’t make it to my games because he was at a meetin’, or workin’ overtime! Do you know how hard that was for me?”  
No, and he never would.   
Opening his mouth, Spy was ready to apologize once more, but Scout cut him off.   
“Y’know what the worst part was? I was ready to accept that you had died, that your body was six feet under in some godforsaken cemetery, that’d I’d never have to meet you. It was easier that way-”   
He was crying. His son was crying, and there was nothing Spy could do to comfort him. Pulling the younger man into a soft embrace, Spy awkwardly stroked his hair back, trying to appease whatever inner demons had awakened in the child. His physical actions could never fix what he’d done though, there was no fixing this kind of pain. Fist weakly beat against his chest, once, twice, before twisting into his suit. Scout held onto the fabric of that blue pinstripe suit for dear life, sobs wracking through his small frame. It was like he was shrinking into himself, so weak and defenseless.   
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry…” Spy whispered, averting his gaze in a vain attempt to preserve the kid’s dignity. He couldn’t bear to look at those red eyes, those wet and flushed cheeks, knowing that he was the one who brought the boy down like this.   
Scout gasped for air, trying to regain what was left of his composure.   
“Why couldn’t you stay dead?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I might have died for a while there, but don't worry! Now that it's Winter Break, I can pick up where I left off and get those requests done! Expect to see a lot Mates. Leave comments, I always love reading/responding to them!


	29. Soldier/Engineer/Scout

The spent bullet flipped between his fingers, an empty shell just long enough to mess with, yet not long enough to be bothersome. Twirling it around once more, Scout bit his lip, buck teeth pulling the skin just below taunt. This was the day, the moment he had admitted to the Engineer that he wanted the guy to be more than just… His friend. But something went wrong, or right? Maybe both, either way, something definitely didn’t go the way he had planned, and now he was stuck trying to convince the shorter Texan that he was the better choice. It was rough, going against the Soldier. Solly had more experience, years of dating and wooing tucked away under his hard hat. Then there was Scout, the fumbling nerd who could barely ask a woman out, let alone another man. He knew he lacked a lot, yet what he didn’t have physically, he made up for emotionally.   
“C’mon Engie, y’know I’d never do you wrong…” He trailed off, trying not to sound needy. It was an uphill battle, and he had no intention of losing. Engineer scoffed, choosing to ignore the men surrounding him as he sketched out some more designs on that damn piece of blue paper he always carried around. Soldier stood behind him, hands resting casually on the small Texan’s shoulders, thumbs rubbing small circles into the taut muscle by his neck. Frowning at the older man, Scout sighed, pouting a little.   
“Engie…” He began again, trying to push the Engineer into making up his mind.   
“Scout, I swear to God, if you say one more thing-”   
Crap, now he’d pissed him off. A flicker of pain ran through the boy, eyes watering as he averted his gaze. He could hear the Texan sigh, ignoring the Soldier’s grumbles as he leaned away from the Patriot.   
“Scout…”  
The Bostonian didn’t say anything, a bad sign. Engineer had always enjoyed having his boys around, but unlike the Soldier, Scout lacked that hard outer shell. He was a softie, anyone could see that. Resting a hand on his shoulder, Engie tried again, softly smiling.   
“Scout? Hello, is anyone home?”   
He softly rapped his knuckles across the other’s forehead, holding back a chuckle when the boy’s hand slapped at his. So emotional.   
“Let me guess, you want me to make up my mind?”   
He’d been going on about this for days, both boys trying to fight for Engie’s attention when in reality… He couldn’t care less. Saying this perked the Scout’s curiosity though, his crystal blue eyes flickering over to lock onto the Engineer’s goggles for a brief second, immediately becoming abashed and looking away once more. Humming, the Texan sat back, tapping his chin as if lost in thought.   
“I say we go with movie night.”   
There was a groan, and a cheer as both men reacted to the news. They’d been fighting over what date night would be like for the last week or so, their constant whining and bartering grating the poor Engineer’s nerves.   
“You only chose Movie night because you like Scout more.”   
The accusation threw Engie off, catching the Scout off guard as well. Both looked at the Soldier in shock, the man frowning with his arms crossed.   
“Now Solly, why on Earth would you assume that?”   
Mumbling under his breath, Soldier shrugged, ignoring the Engineer’s advancements and turning his head to the side. That wasn’t right, they couldn’t fight about something like this now. Scout hopped up, reaching over to wrap his arms hesitantly around the Veteran’s waist.   
“Naw Solly, y’know that ain’t true!”  
Soldier tensed, not used to being the Younger Mercs object of affection. Normally, the kid would be all over Engie, trying to woo and convince him to do things his way. Soldier could never say ‘no’ to Engie, so once the man made up his mind, that was it.   
“Solly?”   
He glanced down at the kid wrapped around his midsection, rolling his eyes when he saw the damn adorable and semi-goofy smirk there to greet him. He would not relent, not today. The grip tightened, and he heard Engie’s chair scrape, the Texan standing up to join the hug assault as well. Groaning as another set of arms wrapped around him, the Patriot couldn’t hold back the small sigh that escaped his lips.   
“Feeling better, Mr.Grumps?” Scout teased, earning a light flick from the Engineer.   
Mumbling under his breath, Solly smiled softly.   
“Affirmative.”  
“Then can we go watch that new movie now? I gotta see how this one rolls!”   
Engie tutted quietly, resting his head against the Soldier’s chest. “We can have a game night next time, okay Sols?”   
Nodding, Soldier returned the hug, wrapping his arms around both of the Mercs.   
“Roger that, Engie.”  
“And boys?”   
Both men froze, looking over at the Engineer curiously.   
“Happy Anniversary.”


End file.
